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"I'm not sure how Severu would feel about that. It's not what young ladies in our family usually do."
"Neither is getting a bachelor's degree, but Guilia did before she married," I point out.
"You are right. But why doesn't Carlotta bring this up to Severu herself?"
I almost laugh, but I realize Aria is serious. Either she's blind to how my sister sees her son, or she's blind to how intimidating her son can be.
"Because he makes her extremely nervous," I say with honesty. Pretending otherwise serves no one. "That's something else I wanted to discuss with you."
"What do you mean?" Aria asks warily.
Hmm…I wonder what she thinks I'm going to say. "Carlotta told me that when she came to your home for dinner, the don and my father spent most of the time discussing business."
"Nothing that shouldn't be discussed in front of a young woman, I assure you."
"That's not what I'm concerned about. How is Carlotta supposed to get to know her fiancé when he spends all their time together talking to my father?"
"She'll have a whole lifetime to get to know him," Aria says patiently, like she thinks I should know this.
But this isn't the last century, and my sister deserves to be wooed, if only for her very short engagement.
"I don't want my sister walking down the aisle terrified of what is to come," I say bluntly.
Aria sighs. "Unfortunately, my son has the habit of discussing business whenever his men join us for dinner."
"Then maybe he should take Carlotta out to dinner alone."
"Like a date?" Aria asks, sounding amused. "I'm not sure he would take such a suggestion from me seriously."
Well, he definitely won't if Aria herself finds the idea laughable. I ask, "But you will talk to him about culinary school?"
"Cooking classes at the very least," she assures me.
I thank her and ring off. Someone has to talk to Severu about acting like a fiancé and not just a don. If his mother won't do it, I know my father won't. Heck, he's part of the problem.
I consider asking Zio Giovi to do it, but that feels cowardly. I am not a coward, no matter what my father wants to believe. I will call the don myself. I do ask my uncle if he has the don's cellphone number.
"No. I may be married to your aunt, but I'm not one of his men," he says to me. He doesn't sound bitter exactly, but for once he's not smiling when he's talking to me either. "Why do you want it?"
"Oh, I just need to ask him something about the wedding." Since I'm helping to plan the wedding, that sounds believable.
And technically, I'm not lying. Having a good wedding requires a happy bride, at least by my estimation.
"I'm sorry I can't help you."
"That's all right. Thank you, anyway, Zio." I give him a quick peck on the cheek and turn to go, but he grabs my arm.
I stop and look at him inquiringly.
"I haven't told you how proud I am of you for how you handled yourself yesterday. If you hadn't been there, your sister would have been taken."
Or we both would have been killed. I shiver, but smile my thanks. "You're the one that taught me to shoot."
"Your father isn't happy about that," Zio says with a grimace.
"I know, but if I only did things that made Papà happy, I would spend all day, every day, holed up in my room."
Zio doesn't deny it. In fact, he laughs. "You've got spunk,tesorina, despite how your father has tried to beat it out of you."
