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“Jill?” Vitt said, looking at her. “What do you prefer?”
It was good of him to give her a choice. It sounded like the right thing to say, but clearly he didn’t understand that Jillian couldn’t refuse his mother’s suggestion without appearing ungracious. She forced a smile. “I’d love to ride with your mother,” she said. “Sounds like fun.”
“It’s probably a good idea,” he agreed smoothly. “This way you’ll have an ally on your side before you meet the rest of the family.”
Jillian then had no choice but to follow his mother into her black sedan, even as her gaze strayed to her baby in Vitt’s arms. She should be with Vitt and Joe. She should be traveling with them, not Vitt’s mom.
“Have you ever been to Sicily?” Theresa asked as they each took position on opposite ends of the leather seat.
The chauffeur started the car and pulled away from the other sedans. Jillian forced herself to focus on Vitt’s mother. The interior of the car was dark and cool and she needed a moment for her eyes to adjust after the bright morning sunlight. “No. I’m sorry I haven’t.”
Theresa tapped her nails on the door’s metal handle. “Is your family Sicilian?”
“No.”
“Italian?”
Her father was, yes, but she couldn’t tell Theresa that. “German and Scottish, with a dab of Irish and a hint of French.”
His mother regarded her steadily, her focus sharp. “You’ve been to Bellagio.”
“Yes.”
“The villa is beautiful.”
“Extraordinary.”
“Did you drive his Lamborghini?”
“No, the Ferrari.”
“It’s a nice life, isn’t it? The cars, the houses, expensive jewelry.”
They were back to the perception that Jillian was a gold digger. Jillian didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry. She cared about many things, but money wasn’t one of them. “You do your Vittorio a disservice. He’s brilliant, devastatingly attractive and without a doubt, the most complex man I’ve ever met.”
“But the money is nice.”
Jillian kept her expression pleasant. “If I wanted a rich husband, I could have had a rich husband without the complications of a difficult family.”
Theresa stiffened, her eyes narrowing as she fell silent.
Jillian realized she’d probably made a gross tactical error, but there was no going back now. All she could do was try to hold her own, push on and see this brutal conversation to the end. “But my family is no better,” she said awkwardly, trying to make amends. “They don’t approve of Vitt any more than you approve of me.”
“You make it sound like you and Vittorio are two star-crossed lovers.”
She shrugged lightly. “I suppose there are shades of Romeo and Juliet in our story, but hopefully without the tragic ending.”
“Why don’t your parents approve of Vittorio?”
Ah, Theresa didn’t like that, did she? “They’re aware that he and I come from different backgrounds, and perhaps have different values.”
Theresa sat very still, her hands motionless in her lap. “Different values?”
“As you just pointed out, I’m neither Sicilian or Italian, and although I was raised Catholic, I rarely go to Mass now and yet from what I understand, your family is quite devout.”
“So why did he marry you?”
“Love.”
