Page 11 of Naughty Santa Daddy

“Thanks,” I mumble.

“Alessandra Allegrini, don’t talk with your mouth full,” Mamá scolds.

I swallow and smile sheepishly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“So, what’s new with you?” Enzo asks, sitting across from me. “Other than meeting a man.”

Practically choking, I violently cough until my throat is clear.

“A man?” Mamá asks as she takes the chair next to mine. “You didn’t tell me you met someone.”

“Because there’s nothing to tell.” I glare at Enzo, who simply shrugs.

Smug bastard.

“You didn’t tell me about a man.”

I swivel my head to look at my father, who’s walking across the kitchen with the newspaper tucked under his arm and his cell phone grasped in his hand.

“Because there’s nothing to tell,” I repeat.

“Well,” Papá begins. “That’s good because a relationship will just make your move home messy.”

“I told you,” I snap. “I’m not mov—”

“It’s too early to be arguing,” Mamá comments, and if looks could kill, my father would be a bloody heap of death on the pristine kitchen floor. “There will be plenty of time to work out all the details over the next week. For now, I just want to enjoy my daughter being home.”

The next fifteen minutes pass in a weird silence. Papá alternates between reading the paper and responding to emails on his cell while Mamá watches me eat like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she takes her eyes off me.

After I take my dishes to the sink and rinse them before putting them in the dishwasher, I return to the table but don’t sit.

“I’ve got some people I want to go see,” I announce. “I’ll be back by dinner.”

“Enzo, go with her,” Papá instructs. “I’ll call your father and tell him you’re going to be occupied for the day.”

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I insist, but it’s no use. Arguing with Lorenzo Allegrini is as pointless as trying to keep water from seeping through a colander.

“I’ll keep her in line, Uncle Lorenzo,” Enzo says as he rises from his chair, closes the distance between us, grips my elbow, and ushers me toward the front door. “Pick your battles, Alex,” he says.

I roll my eyes. “I’m a grown woman,” I snap. “I shouldn’t have to.”

“And he’ll always see you as a little girl. I think you’d be used to that by now.”

I huff out a breath. “I don’t even have my purse,” I tell him when he opens the passenger door of his bright red Maserati.

“If you need anything while we’re out, I’ll take care of it.” Enzo nods at the car. “Get in.”

My cousin is the only person on the planet who can get away with ordering me around—okay, okay… Papá, too—and as annoying as it is, I find I don’t mind it so much at the moment. It feels…comfortable.

The scenery goes by in a blur as Enzo drives. I stare out the window, soaking up the sights of home and realizing how much I miss being here. I left for a reason and have zero intention of moving back, but a piece of me will always consider this home.

“Earth to Alex,” Enzo says, snapping me out of my stupor. “We’re here.”

I shake my head and glance around. Gravestones litter the landscape, and an all-too-familiar lump forms in my throat. My heart beats faster, and my pulse thumps in my ears.

“H-How’d you know?” I ask quietly.

Before he answers, Enzo exits the car and walks around to open my door. He leans in and levels his gaze on me. “That you’d want to come see Emily?” I nod. “Because, other than family, whom you’ll see at dinner, she’s the only person you visit when you come back to New York.”

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