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“And that was supposed to be mine.”
Lorenzo puts his hand at my lower back and kisses me. I’m certain he can taste the chocolate.
“It’s a good thing your cousins are in bed, or you could explain to your uncle why his daughters have kissing questions.”
Sylvia says it as she walks past us to leave the kitchen. He spins me on the stool I’d taken to eat the cake. He steps between my legs.
“Do you want to go home like we planned, or would you rather spend the night here? Where would you feel safer?”
“Where will you be?”
“Beside you in whichever bed you choose.”
“What do you think is smarter?” Safer.
“You’re safe at either place, but there’s more security here.”
“But more privacy at my place.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me which one you think is smarter.”
“Either. I wouldn’t have given you a choice if I didn’t think I should.”
“Then can we go home — to my place?”
I tack that on at the last minute.
“Piccolina, you’ve been to my place. If yours feels more like home, then we call that home. I’m not assuming you want to live together yet, but home, for me, is wherever you are.”
“You say the most romantic things. But— uh — is —”
“Piccolinaisn’t a common term of endearment in Italy or Sicily. But it is one in this family. It’s private between husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend. I suspect the other couples are like us. I’ve heard a couple of the women whisper Daddy when I didn’t mean to overhear them. I have never called another womanpiccolinaorcuore. I’ve never used any terms of endearment for women who aren’t already in my family. You’re the only one, little girl.”
“I’ve never called a man I’m dating Daddy.”
“I know. These things are special between us. While we might be like the others, what happens between us is our business. No one else’s.”
I want us to have a home together. This night has shown me a lot. It’s almost too much to take in. It’s overwhelming like Sylvia said. But I feel safe with them. Everything Enzo told me about family being the most important thing to him was evidenced here tonight. He didn’t exaggerate. I want to be a part of this as much as I want Enzo for the man he is separate from his family.
I assume there’s a crib somewhere for Petra because Olivia wasn’t holding her baby when we came back downstairs. They all have rooms here even though I don’t think any of them have lived here besides Salvatore, Sylvia, and their daughters.
Whatever shit is happening because of my involvement with Laura and her in-laws, I trust the Mancinellis to protect me. And I trust Lorenzo to love me. I just hope it’s all enough.
* * *
It’s been a week and way more normal than I expected. I’ve had lunch with my sister twice, and I was nervous at the beginning of both meals. But she says I’m happier than she’s ever seen me and wants to meet Enzo. I told her he was a lot like Maks and left it at that. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline, and she looked disapproving. When I told her more about what it’s like when it’s just the two of us, that’s when she realized how happy I am. I think she’s on board with it.
I’ve told my parents about Enzo, but I’ve avoided using his name. I suspect the moment I say Lorenzo and not even Mancinelli, they would know who I’m dating. I’ve told them he’s a restaurateur, an entrepreneur, and an accountant. I’ve alluded to his wealth, which I can still only guess at, and that his family is among the richest in the city.
When they asked if he grew up in the city, I said yes. I gave a not so subtle hint when I said his family is from Sicily. Their faces were mirrors of Liz’s, but they said nothing at all. Imma go with silence is consent on that one. I haven’t told my brother a damn thing. We’re close, but I don’t want to know who he sleeps with. And I’m damn sure he doesn’t want to know who his little sister sleeps with.
It hasn’t been hard getting used to having bodyguards because they are professionals. I believe Enzo when he says they trained him to be one. His men — including the ones in his family — are discreet, but present enough that I feel safe.
Enzo guarded me himself the first two days at the office, and he was practically a ghost. I purposely went to the restroom more often than usual or walked clients to the door just to see if I could spot him. I didn’t, but somehow I just knew he could see me.
We had a weekend in there, which we spent together. We went running in Central Park. We had men ahead of us and behind us, so I kinda felt like the president. But again, they were completely unobtrusive. You’d have thought they were everyday runners enjoying the beautiful weather.
