Page 107 of Sinful Promises

Roman poured us a coffee each from a hot thermos he’d brought along. Then he opened a Tupperware dish and held it toward me. “Would you like one of Mamma’s treats?”

The container had a selection of cakes and cookies that looked delicious. It was so hard to choose, but finally I decided on the caprese cake that was studded with almonds and dusted with icing sugar.

Roman chose the huge slice of Italian cream cake.

I nestled my coffee onto a breadboard, ready to eat my cake. “This is so nice.”

“I thought you’d like it here. We had to get away from Mamma—she’ll never leave us alone. You’ll need to get used to that.”

Again, he was talking like I was going to stay. I took a bite of my cake. It was tasty and moist, but my rotten situation was making it bitter.

“So, Dais, I know you won’t want to ruin this, but did you want to tell me about your mom?”

“No.”

He cocked his head.

We had so many things we needed to talk about, and that was the last of the ones on my agenda. But as we drank the steaming coffee and munched our way through a couple of treats in one of the most picturesque settings in the world, I told Roman all about my visit to the hospital to see my dying mother. Telling him about Rob and the necklace and the robbery and the police . . . all that was easy in comparison to what Mother did.

He remained mostly silent as I relayed the entire rotten story. After meeting his family, I wondered how he felt about me abandoning Mother when she needed me the most.

What did that say about me?

Oh, God. I’d never even thought of the consequences of that. I had to ask. “I hope you understand. After what she did, I just couldn’t see her again. For years she was so selfish that she’d compromised my safety to be with a man?—”

Roman leaned forward, clutched my cheeks, and kissed me. He pulled back. “It’s okay. Stop worrying. I understand why you left. Just because someone is your blood relative, doesn’t mean you have to love them. And being family doesn’t give you the right to abuse it.”

Nodding as relief flooded through me, I squeezed his hand.

“Like any relationship, the strength of a family bond relies on trust and honesty, and mutual respect. Your mother didn’t offer any one of those.”

“The only reason she wanted me there was so she wouldn’t be alone at the end. I . . .” I shook my head, hardly able to believe I was getting emotional. “I denied her of her dying wish.”

He shuffled over and tugged me to his chest. “Your mother broke every rule of love. That’s why she was alone.”

As we sat in the glorious sunshine, Roman allowed me my little moment of sorrow. But when I realized that once again, Mother was ruining something special, I sucked in a shaky breath and pulled back.

Looking into his stunning eyes, I shrugged. “So, there you go. I had a mother who was selfish in every way, and the man who pretended to be my father was a criminal, and I’ll never know who my real dad is. How do you feel now about getting involved with me?”

“Where you came from is not what matters, Daisy. We all have baggage in our past. It’s what you do now and in the future that matters.”

“Right.” I nodded. “Well said. You sound just like Zali.”

He grinned. “I like the sound of that.” He raised his cup and clinked our coffees together. “So now that you’ve told me about your family, there’s something you should know about mine.”

He was so serious that dread formed in my chest. “Okay.”

He reached into the ice cooler and plucked out a long, narrow bottle filled with a yellow liquid. “If you are going to be part of my family, you need to get used to Dad’s limoncello.”

I laughed; my heart skipped a beat. Part of his family? Oh my god. Did he really mean that? Mentally, I did the happiest happy dance possible. He poured the vibrant-colored liquid into a flute and handed it to me.

He filled a glass for himself, and when he turned to me the sun captured in his eyes, highlighting his honey irises in a way that made my breath catch. Sitting in this beautiful alcove with my Italian hunk was everything a picnic should be—relaxing and calming and utterly perfect.

We clinked our glasses together, but when I sipped, the bitter liquid stung at my tongue and burned my throat. I chugged back the blazing fire.

He nodded at me. “What do you think?”

I swallowed, hoping my voice was still possible. “It’s nice.”

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