Page 24 of Finding Love

“There you are!” I barely have a chance to turn at the sound of my mother’s voice before she has thrown her arms around me, squeezing tight. “I was starting to worry you would never show.”

The familiar scent of her signature Pleasures perfume is enough to make my heart swell and leaves me fighting back emotion. Once she lets go only enough to hold me at arm’s length, I note, “We’re on time. Didn’t you get my text telling you we were on the way?”

Her familiar blue eyes roll. “Sure, but you still could’ve come up with some excuse to keep from seeing us.” She looks me up and down and offers an approving smile. “You look nice. Maybe a little too thin, but that’s always been true.”

“Mind if I get a chance to say hello to my daughter?” Dad has always been the calming influence, the one who smooths Mom’s sharp edges. A hug from him is like coming home, and I am unwilling to let go right away. I’m myself now. I know who I am.

That is until I hear Mom behind us. “And you must be Luca.” Her voice has obvious approval, and I don’t doubt she’s reacting to his good looks. Who wouldn’t?

“I am, Mrs. Washington. It’s a pleasure. I see where Emilia’s beauty originates.” He knows how to turn on the charm when he has to, and his voice practically drips with it before she giggles like a teenager.

Dad’s pleasant smile fades as he studies Luca over the top of my head. No, no, please. Don’t cause a scene. “Have we met before?” he asks as they shake hands.

“I don’t think so, sir.” Luca leaves it there before taking my hand. I squeeze his as hard as I can, but he doesn’t react, cool and calm. I guess deception comes more naturally to him.

The hostess waves us on, and we follow her lead, passing one table after another. I even recognize a couple of the guys scattered around the dining room, having seen them outside the house on occasion. Luca was right. They do blend in.

Dad is no closer to being convinced by the time we sit at a table near the back of the room. I notice the way Luca positions himself with his back to the wall so he can see everything. What would it be like, always having to look over my shoulder?

“You look very familiar to me,” Dad murmurs just as he takes his seat across from Luca.

“Do you have any pictures from your trip?” I ask, raising my voice until it’s a little louder than his. “I’ve been dying to see them.”

“Oh, yes, I have them on my phone.” Mom pulls it out and opens her photo app. “You really should go, honey. You would love it.”

“That’s what you say after all your trips,” I point out. It feels good to remember something like that, something normal. And I’m glad for the photos since they’ll provide a distraction.

I don’t feel like devolving into awkward small talk that can’t lead anywhere good.

“Do you travel much, Luca?” Mom asks as I scroll through one photo after another.

“I would like to,” he tells her. “I’m usually too busy with work to consider it.”

“And what is it you do for a living?” she asks while I die inside.

Dammit. I can’t keep myself from cringing at the question. I look at Luca from the corner of my eye, holding my breath. “I help run my family business,” he explains smoothly. “I generally do whatever my father asks. We have business interests throughout the city.”

“Business. That’s interesting.” Mom leans over to look at the photos I’m pulling up. “Oh, that was a terrific day. We saw?—”

“Business?” Dad’s voice is flat, tight. The way he sounds when he’s suspicious and following a hunch. “What kind of business?”

“What is this?” Mom asks with a light laugh. “An interrogation? Honey, that’s enough.” All I can do is hope that, with all my might, he will listen to her.

He doesn’t. “I know who you are. I know your face.” My blood runs cold, and my body stiffens as my father’s head swings slowly in my direction so he can stare at me in horror. “What is this all about? What are you doing with this man?”

Well, there goes that. We haven’t even ordered appetizers, and already the night is ruined. “Dad, don’t,” I whisper. “Please.”

“Will someone please clue me in?” Mom’s gaze swings back and forth over the table.

“Maybe I can explain,” Luca offers. He reminds me of his father right now, wearing the same stern expression Rocco does when he sits at the head of the family table. “My name is Luca Santoro.”

Mom gasps with her usual dramatic flair before staring wide-eyed at me. “Santoro? Those Santoros?”

“Those Santoros,” Luca murmurs evenly, a wry grin playing over his mouth. I’m glad he finds this amusing while I sit here trying not to throw up. “I know this must come as a shock.”

“That’s why I didn’t really want to tell you any specifics,” I murmur, chewing my lip as I watch them process all of this. Doing it in public was a mistake, but it’s too late now. “I knew you would think the worst. I was trying to find a way to explain.”

“And have you found it?” Dad folds his arms. “Because I would love to hear this.”

---