Page 13 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

“There’s a board. Who of course would love it if I lost control, because it would mean that they could have it. And I will not allow a board of my mother’s enablers to have their way.”

“Do you love the business?”

“Love the business? What does that mean?”

“I love Holiday House. I love it. I can feel the legacy of my family here. Memories of my father. I love this place. It means the world to me. Do you feel that way about Rockmore?”

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

“Then why does it matter?”

“Because I refuse to lose.”

“What would you be losing?”

Why not tell her? This was an aberration and he was forced to exist in it, so why not talk to her? This creature he would never have spoken to as part of his normal life. Why not...indulge?

He did not do chaos or indulgence in his real life, and here he was, steeped in both. The snow making a mockery of the idea he’d ever had power over anything of note. It was perhaps more that his life had not encountered an act of God before now.

“The game. I do not cede control,cara.”

She wrinkled her nose, and in spite of himself he found it...charming.

Had he ever been charmed before?

“You do not cede control or eat leftovers. So interesting.”

She sneezed again. And he fought against his own distaste for anything germ related.

“You must go to bed,” he said. “You are unwell.”

“I’ve certainly beenmorewell,” she said, sounding flat.

“What would you do if you had a place full of guests?”

She looked slightly helpless then. “I don’t know.” She squinted. “I refuse to thank you.”

“I do not require your thanks, though it is something to think about.”

“Is there any way that you can... Stop ever?” she asked as she picked up her coffee, as if she was going to take it to bed with her.

“What do you mean?”

“I just mean... Is there any way... Another way that lets you stop the expansion?”

He mulled telling her this truth, as it was...like all things with his mother it was incomprehensible, and he found it humiliating in a strange way. Exposing the ridiculousness of the woman who had birthed him, raised him. But it was also the truth of her, and of his life, so what could be done?

“Yes,” he said. “There is.”

“What’s that?”

“I have to get married. And have a child.”

She blinked. “Your mom was kind of controlling.”

“You have no idea,” he said.

“Well, can you understand that I don’t want my mother controlling me?”

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