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Theresa stared at her for the longest moment before smiling mockingly. “And you actually expect me to believe any of that drivel?”
Jillian opened her mouth to protest, but Theresa leaned toward Jillian and calmly, ruthlessly continued, “You don’t think I have my own connections? You don’t think I ask questions? I know you only just got married. And I know you didn’t want to marry my son—you only married him to keep your son.”
Jillian bit down into her lip, stunned.
But Theresa wasn’t done yet. Her cool blue gaze swept Jillian’s ashen face. “You can play whatever game you want to play with Vittorio, Jill, but don’t play games with me.” She paused, before bluntly saying, “Your entire relationship is a sham, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“It seems like one to me—”
“But it’s not your relationship. It’s mine. I adore Vittorio. I always have.”
“So why am I only meeting you now, a year after my grandson’s birth?”
Jillian sat tall, her chin tilted up. “I don’t see how that is any of your business.”
“I’m his mother!”
“And I’m his wife.”
The rest of the trip passed in tense silence. Twenty-five minutes after leaving Catania, they reached Vittorio’s hometown of Paterno. Catania, Sicily’s second largest city, was crowded and noisy, a sprawling urban city with a questionable reputation, whereas small, serene Paterno lay surrounded by citrus orchards with the protective tower and walls of the d’Severano family’s Norman castle standing guard.
It was a bright, clear morning with a stunning blue sky and the drive from the outskirts of Paterno to the castle entrance provided breathtaking views of both Mt Etna and the Simeto Valley.
Jillian and Theresa arrived first at the castle and were just stepping from their car, smoothing skirts and adjusting hemlines without once looking at each other, when the second black sedan arrived. Emerging from the back of his sedan, Vitt lifted Joseph out and then joined his mother and Jillian before the stone steps that led to the castle’s massive front doors.
“How was the drive?” he asked, glancing from his mother’s stony expression to the tight press of Jillian’s lips.
“Good,” Jillian said, her voice cracking.
“Not my choice of words, but we’re both here, aren’t we?” his mother retorted, one of her elegant winged eyebrows arching higher before turning around and walking away, her thin back ramrod-straight.
Vittorio watched his mother climb the pale stone stairs before turning back to Jill. “Sounds like an interesting trip,” he said drily, eyes glinting again.
Of course he’d find his mother amusing. “It was,” she agreed, taking Joe from Vitt and giving him a kiss.
“Did she ask a lot of questions?”
“Yes.”
“Was she direct?”
“As well as rude.” She took a deep breath, shook her head. “She doesn’t like me at all.”
“She doesn’t know you.”
“Well, she certainly doesn’t think we should be together.”
“You felt the same way yesterday,” he retorted with a smile. “Now enough about my mother. Let me show you and Joseph around your new home.”
From the immense twelfth-century walls, Jillian had imagined the interior would be dark and severe. Instead the castle had the feel of an airy Mediterranean villa. Everything was light and bright, walls and upholstery and floors all finished in cool, calming shades of white, sea-foam green and ethereal blue.
Because Joe was growing tired, Vittorio kept the tour brief, but Jillian didn’t need a lot of description to be dazzled by Vitt’s home. There was a sensual beauty to his castle, a warmth that permeated the old stones, thick walls and high-ceilinged rooms.
As they climbed stairs into towers, crossed terraces to view private gardens, Jillian caught whiffs of the heady perfume from the flowering citrus groves below the castle and felt the warmth of the gentle April sunshine as it cascaded over the weathered rock walls and surfaces.
Returning to the impressive staircase, they arrived on the third floor consisting of Vitt’s suite of rooms and the newly renovated nursery for their son.
