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Very grudgingly, I comply. But only because I’m fucking starving. Christopher looks from his brother to me then back at his brother again. He smirks.
“Ci tieni a lei,” he says to his brother.
Christian’s eyes flash in irritation, “She understands Italian,lo stupido.”
“Actually,” I say, “I have no idea what Topher just said. I took a few lessons but my Italian’s not that great.”
He shoots me a look. “Why do I have a feeling you’re lying,tesoro? It’s good enough that you understood whatcuciollomeans.”
“Yes, because that word stuck for some reason, but I swear I don’t know a lot. I plan to learn, though,” I say placatingly.
His eyes narrow but he doesn’t push it.
“So, what did Topher say?”
“He asked if I care about you,” he relents.
“Technically, I didn’t ask,” his brother cuts in.
“So, do you?”
Our gazes meet, the air in the room heating up a few degrees. Christian looks away first, his eyes moving to his phone.
“Eat your breakfast, Evans,” he drawls.
I sigh softly. Christopher’s eyes are practically twinkling in excitement. He’s the one that should be compared to a damncuciollo.
“I had a thought,” he begins.
“Not interested,” his brother states.
“Come on,fratello, hear me out.”
Christian sighs before finally looking up at him.
“The two of you should have an engagement party,” he says.
Even before he replies, I already know Christian is going to shut that idea down.
“Not happening, Toph.”
“Come on, Chris, hear me out. Daniella’s cooped up in here, probably bored out of her mind. Throwing a party would be nice.”
“You just want an excuse to party.”
“No, I’m suggesting this because it’s in both your best interests. Dany can invite her parents and friends here, and we can call some members of the family. A formal event signifying the partnership between the families.”
He does have a point, but Christian doesn’t like having people in the house. It’s the OCD, and I’m sure he would be extremely uncomfortable with so many bodies in here.
“We don’t have to throw a party,” I state.
Topher frowns. “Oh, come on,cognata. I promise it’ll be fun. I’ll handle all the arrangements.”
“Is that supposed to convince me?” I ask dryly.
He shoots me a glare. Christian clears his throat before saying simply, “You can have the party.”
My eyebrows rise. “What?”
