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“Leave?” I ask incredulously. “Why would she leave?”
She can’t leave. I already see her in my future, acting as a buffer between Christian and me for all time. She’s my newest asset. She can’t leave!
“You didn’t think I was going to live here with you,cara,” Martina replies. “The two of you are getting married, you need the privacy.”
My mood sours at that. I lean back into the chair and cross my legs. “Great,” I mutter apathetically.
Christian checks the time on his watch, obviously impatient and ready to go.
“You two… haven’t had sex yet. Have you?”
I think I choke on my saliva. Christian gets to his feet. “Mother!” he snaps.
“What?” the older woman says on a shrug, an innocent expression on her face. “You’re grown adults. about to be married, of course I’m curious.”
“No. We’re not doing this with you. Absolutely fucking not.”
Her gaze sharpens. “If you swear in front of me again, Christian, we’ll have a very difficult conversation,capire?”
Tension rolls through Christian’s body. “Si.”
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Martina starts, her demeanor switching in an instant. “I’m going to be your relationship therapist.”
I hide my smile. She’s going to do what? Christian takes his seat beside me, obviously done with fighting her.
“Obviously, you both have some issues. I’ll help you walk through it. Talk to me,” she prompts.
Crickets. Neither I nor Christian say a word. Martina sighs softly.
She looks at me. “When I walked in,mia cara, you seemed to be talking about how Christian has the, what was it? Ah! ‘Emotional range of a teaspoon.’” She smiles like it’s something funny. “I’m afraid he gets that from his father, honey. D’Angelo men like to pretend they’re so tough all the time. Deep down, he actually cares.”
“I know,” I venture, ignoring the way Christian stiffens beside me. “I know he cares, he has said as much himself. That’s not the problem, Martina.”
“Then what is it?”
“He’s just… cold. Like he’s incapable of feeling anything deeply. He might care about me, but I doubt that care goes beyond anything relating to duty and responsibility,” I say honestly.
I can’t even look at him right now, afraid of what I’ll find in those amber eyes. Probably nothing.
Martina’s eyes are on her son, studying him. “Figlia mia, what do you have to say?” she asks softly.
Christian looks at me and I can tell he wants to talk. To finally let me in. Then his brows draw together and he gets to his feet.
“I think this is ridiculous, Mother. You just got back from your trip and then you had to deal with Toph. Take a break. You can stay here for a few days before you go to your apartment. I’m sure Daniella won’t mind the company.”
With those words, he leaves. I’m left staring at Martina D’Angelo, feeling the strangest sense to tell her I told her so. Instead, she settles down beside me, laughing softly.
“Oh, honey, what have you done to my son?” she questions.
My brows knit in confusion. “What?”
“He’s unraveling. Trust me,cara. Christian is a man on the brink of cracking. It’s just a matter of when.”
I ponder those words, wondering how she can be so sure. Before I can question her, she turns to me, brown eyes glinting.
“Let’s have the chef make us some martinis. You can tell me all about yourself.”
And that’s how I spend the rest of my day. By the time the day is done, I’m pretty sure I’ve fallen a little bit in love with her.
