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"Can you explain?" she asks, sensing there's more to the story.
"My father married her when she was very young. He was visiting her town in Italy for some business. They were married, she got pregnant, and within a year, he divorced her to move on to Constantino's mother."
"God, that's horrible," Lulu says, her eyes filled with empathy.
I shrug my shoulders, trying to act nonchalant. "When I was born, my mother somehow contacted my father, asking for assistance and money to take care of me. Her family was very poor." I hesitate before admitting the next part, my voice wavering slightly. "Instead of helping her, I was taken away from her and raised here in the mansion alongside my other brothers."
Lulu's expression is a mix of horror and sadness. "That's terrible. I can't imagine what your mother must have felt," she whispers, her brown eyes welling up with unshed tears.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, realizing I've never genuinely considered my mother's feelings in all this. "To be honest, I haven't given it much thought myself."
"You really should find her and try to reconnect with her, Giovanni," Lulu insists, her voice full of conviction.
The bitterness I've kept bottled up for so long seeps into my words. "She was the one who allowed me to be taken away, and she hasn't even tried to contact me since."
Lulu reaches her hand forward, placing it gently on mine. The warmth of her touch surprises me, and I look into her compassionate eyes. "Maybe there's more to the story than you know. If you think about the world you're in – the world your father created – maybe after all these years, she didn't believe she could reach out to you."
I smile halfheartedly, the weight of her words settling in. "Maybe you're right. I'll look into it."
"Promise me you will," she says sincerely.
Caught in the vulnerability of the moment and not wanting to see her hurting, I find myself making a promise I never thought I would. "I promise, Lulu."
* * *
As we finish eating, I can't help but wish for more time with her. It's a selfish thought, but one I can't shake. "Would you like another glass of wine?" I ask, trying to extend our evening together.
She looks at me quizzically, as if she's trying to gauge my intention. "If you'd rather go to bed, I understand," I say, giving her an out.
But she smiles – a smile that makes me uneasy – and says, "No, it's fine. I'd be happy to share a glass with you."
I retrieve another bottle from the wine cooler, pouring us each a generous amount. As she holds hers delicately between her fingers, she asks, "Would you give me a proper tour of the mansion? I haven't had a chance to see everything yet."
"Of course," I reply, trying to suppress the excitement in my voice. She hops off the counter-height chair, the anticipation evident on her face.
We begin our tour in the grand foyer, where I point out the intricate marble floor design, our family crest surrounded by a delicate floral pattern. Her eyes widen as she takes in the craftsmanship, making me appreciate the beauty of my home all over again.
"Amazing," she murmurs, her breathless admiration stoking the embers of my growing attraction to her.
"Come, there's more to see," I say, leading her through the various rooms and offices. In the library, I show her the vast collection of books lining the walls, some dating back centuries. She runs her fingers lightly along their spines, her reverence for knowledge endearing.
"Your family has quite the collection," she comments, picking up a first edition ofThe Jungle Book, and looking up at me with a glint of curiosity in her eyes.
"Indeed," I reply, my chest swelling with pride. "Many generations have contributed to this."
As we continue our exploration, I describe the stories behind certain paintings and antiques, each one revealing a piece of my family's history. "This painting is of Gaspare Bianci. He was the leader of the family before my father. In many ways, he was a lot like a grandfather to me, as my father was a lot like a son to him. When he was unable to have children, he left leadership of the family to my father, despite his impure bloodline."
Lulu listens intently, her eyes twinkling with interest, and I find myself entranced by her enthusiasm.
The sound of her laughter fills the mansion as we pass through the lavish ballroom, and I start to envision us dancing together, lost in each other's embrace. I take a second to regain control of my wayward thoughts.
"Thank you for showing me all this," she says sincerely as we conclude our tour. "Your home is truly magnificent."
"Thank you, Lulu," I reply, my voice barely above a whisper. Her presence has made the familiar surroundings feel new and vibrant, and for that, I am grateful.
Stepping out into the gardens, I lead Lulu through the fragrant night air. The moon reflects a silver glow on the verdant landscape, illuminating the delicate petals of flowers in bloom. She shivers in the cool spring breeze, and I instinctively remove my suit jacket, draping it over her slender shoulders. Her brown eyes meet mine with a warmth that makes me shiver.
"Thanks," she whispers, a smile playing at the corners of her lips.
