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“Whatever. We’re going shopping later today. The whole family is coming for dinner.”
“Whatever you say,Pussy Cat.”
Fuck. She’s going to murder me.
Her head whips around, “Call me that again,Dick, and it will be the last time you’ll see sunlight.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, unable to hide my smile, despite her glower.
CATARINA
While I already had a glass and a half ofvinoat dinner, I grab three bottles from the wine cellar to take back to the villa thatPapàuses occasionally for guests. I have my own room in the main house, but there is no way in hell I’m giving my family more time to share their numerous opinions about this arrangement with Richard.
When I come back upstairs, I find Richard in the kitchen helpingMammadry the dishes from dinner. The two of them are laughing, and they are ridiculously chummy for two people who barely know enough of each other’s language to hold a fluid conversation.
Seeing me in the doorway,Mammaeyes my arms full of wine disapprovingly as she dries her hands on a dish towel. “Sii gentile con questo, Catarina. Molto bello.”
“Sì, Mamma,” I respond with a soft tonewhile nodding.
“He nice boy,”Mammastruggles to speak the words in English, as she pinches both of his cheeks like he’s a child. A wide smile spreads across his face. Releasing him, she taps her wedding band and shakes her head at him. “No baby.”
“Mamma!”I shriek. I don’t have it in me to explain to her yet again that we aren’t actually dating, and I can’t understand why my entire family seems to think otherwise.
This is just an arrangement.
It’s temporary.
After drying his hands and rolling the sleeves of his shirt back over his forearms—that I can’t take my eyes off of—he reaches for the bottles of wine I’m cradling. His hands slide over my bare skin as he takes them from me, and I feel that same tingle beneath his touch.
“Grazie.”
“Am I taking this to the other room? Is there some post-dinner wine tasting or something?”
“No,” I scoff. “We’re going to the villa and I don’t want to have to come back tonight.”
Richard follows me out the back of the estate and through the gardens. I swear I can feel his eyes searing into my ass as I walk.
“This is a whole other house.” Richard exclaims when we reach the less than modest villa. “The family… I mean,yourfamily… does well for themselves.”
Not knowing how to respond, I open the door for him. Following behind him into the open great room, I head straight toward the kitchen area to find the corkscrew and wine glasses. Richard picks up each of the bottles and reads the labels from the different vineyards as I rummage through cabinets and drawers.
“Thank God,” I exhale when I finally find the corkscrew. Grabbing a bottle, I immediately uncork it and begin pouring myself a glass.
“Are we having a wine tast—” Richard cuts his words short when I continue to pour until my glass is nearly full.
“Wine tasting? I’ll be tasting it as I drink it if that’s what you’re asking.” I take a generous gulp from my glass before eyeing the empty glass on the counter. “Are you joining me or not?”
Richard grabs the glass and pours about two fingers worth ofvino, before pausing and looking between our glasses. “Fuck it,” he exhales as he triples his pour.
“I’m not good at small talk, but if I need to pretend to be with you, I probably need to know a little more than your name and that you’re American.” I pull the gun from the rear waistband of my pants as I carry my glass ofvinoto the couch. Placing my gun on the table before me, I take a seat. Richard follows shortly behind me, bringing the bottle for refills, and takes the seat immediately beside me on the couch.
He might not be terrible to be stuck with.
We clear a bottle and a half ofvinowhile we share the boring details of our lives. Other than clearly telling him that I’m a hitwoman—followed by about a thousand questions and whether or not I was going to kill him—there wasn’t much else to share with him since my family has already told him every embarrassing detail of my life. After reassuring him that he wouldn’t be ‘sleeping with the fishes,’ he tells me about his family, the ex wife, the design job and his friend Stephan that convinced him to come to Italy.
“You do know that carbsdototally count here, right?” I can’t help but snicker at the absurdity that initially prompted his getaway.
“Of course.” He emphatically rolls his eyes before refilling both our glasses.
