Page 3 of Born into Sin

I force a smile and hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you, Beatrice.”

She holds her hand out, and I can see the slight tremor in it. Good god, she’d probably have a heart attack if I went in for a kiss, not that I have any intention of doing that.

“Nice to meet you.” Her voice is whisper-soft, and her hand in mine is limp and clammy. I let it go and have the sudden urge to shake her shoulders in annoyance. There’s something about her timidity that irritates the hell out of me. I know it’s fear because of who I am, but I don’t have a reputation for abusing women, and there’s no reason for her to be acting like this.

I look at my aunt and raise a brow at her. I feel like my work here is done, but her expression makes it clear this little meeting is far from over. Biting back the heavy sigh I want to give, I motion to the couch and say, “Please, sit down, Beatrice. Would you like something to drink?”

She looks at where she’d just been sitting and quickly sits back down again. “Um, a glass of water would be great. Thank you.”

Water isn’t going to cut it for me, so when my aunt looks over, waiting to see what I’ll take, I say, “A whiskey.” Before she walks away, I add, “A double.”

I see the slight shake of her head, but she doesn’t say anything before walking out to get our drinks. We have staff who could easily bring us whatever we want, but I know this is my aunt’s way of giving us some alone time so we can presumably fall in love. Fat fucking chance of that happening.

Resigning myself to a few minutes of hell, I sit down and put my focus on the scared woman in front of me. “So where do you work?” I finally ask to break the awkward silence.

“I work at my family’s bakery.” Her eyes briefly meet mine. “I brought some pastries with me. Your aunt took them into the kitchen.”

“Thank you,” I tell her. “I’m sure they’re delicious.” I pause, running my eyes over her, noticing how uncomfortable she is. “Tell me something, Beatrice. How did my aunt convince you to come here?”

Her eyes jump to mine, worry written all over her face.

“Relax,” I tell her as gently as I can manage. “I’m not mad. It’s just that you don’t look thrilled to be here.”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Alessi,” she whispers.

I raise a hand to try and calm her down. “Call me Dominic and, again, I’m not mad. I just want you to tell me the truth. My aunt can be,” I stop and give a soft laugh, trying like hell to think of a nice word I can use before settling on “pushy.” I shrug my shoulders and settle back into the couch, resting one elbow on the arm rest. “She means well, but she’s determined to see me married, but the truth is I want nothing to do with it.”

I’m surprised when she meets my eyes and lets out a relieved breath. “You don’t?”

“No. I’m going back to America tomorrow. I’m sure you’re a very nice woman, but I’m not interested, and I’m guessing I’m not the only one.”

The corner of her mouth lifts up in a soft smile. “I was too scared to tell your aunt no. She’s been talking about you to me for weeks, but the truth is I’m in love with someone else. He’s a baker at our store, and we haven’t said anything to our families yet, and, well, you’re you, so I knew I couldn’t just say I wasn’t interested.”

When Beatrice speaks about the man she loves, she finally shows me a bit of backbone, and I can’t help but admire it.

“The man you love, what’s his name?”

“Emilio.” She’s unable to hide the smile when she says his name.

“Has he proposed?”

Her cheeks blush at the question. “Not officially because he wants to talk to my father first, but I know he loves me and wants to marry me. He was also waiting to talk to you when it was appropriate, to get your family’s blessing. We were so sorry to hear about your father’s passing. It seemed wrong to talk of marriage when you were still mourning.”

Before I can say anything my aunt comes walking back into the room, drinks in hand and a big smile on her face. I take my whiskey and raise it up in a toast.

“To Beatrice and Emilio, I wish you both a lifetime of happiness.”

Beatrice smiles and drinks her water while my aunt looks between us with a frown on her face. “Well, this didn’t go quite like I’d planned,” she mutters.

I laugh, feeling much better about our forced meeting now that I know my ass is off the hook. Emilio is getting married, not me. I look up at my aunt. “Please send an appropriate gift to Beatrice’s family and offer them my sincerest congratulations.”

We all know what that means. Nothing happens in this part of Italy without my family’s consent, and I’ve just officially given it. My aunt surprises me by grabbing the drink from my hand and tossing back the last of the whiskey. I laugh while she rolls her eyes at me.

“This isn’t how I imagined this visit going.”

“I tried to tell you, Aunt Maria, but you never listen.”

“I listen when something is worth listening to,” she argues, but because she really is a sweet woman, she turns to Beatrice and smiles. “At least someone is getting married.”

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