Page 65 of Disarming Caine

“Do you like it?” Would my mother be happy I’d chosen him for her book? Cass wasn’t, but she’d eventually come around.

“That you would give me something so precious to you...” He placed it and its box on the couch, and brought my left hand to his lips, kissing my promise ring. “Thank you. Thank you so—”

Whispered voices cut him off. A shushing noise. And the scramble of feet.

I looked toward the door, then back at him. “I think someone’s there.”

Chapter 22

Antonio

Samanthacutoffatthe familiar sound of my mother shushing someone. So much for my stealthy family.

She swiveled on the couch, craning her neck to look at the door.

I plucked the jewelry box from the top of the couch and raised my voice so they could hear. “I’ve not given it to her yet.”

My mother, father, grandmother, and sister all poured into the room with ridiculous smiles on their faces. Samantha’s entire body clenched. Fortunately, Sofia’s husband and sons were not there—likely still removing their jackets while she’d charged upstairs—nor were my cousin Frank and his girlfriend.

Samantha turned back to me, doing her best imitation of a deer in headlights. “What’s going on?”

“I told you I had a special gift for you.” With a deep sigh, I took one of her hands and placed the box in it. “And apparently everyone wants to see the look on your face when you open it.”

She remained frozen, only her eyes moving, flicking back and forth between me and the direction of my family.

I placed a hand on her knee, rubbing lightly with my thumb. “I wanted to bring you up here because I didn’t want what happened in this room to hang around our necks for the rest of our lives. We needed a better memory.”

Samantha blinked at me in a pattern I didn’t recognize. There were many ways she stared, some to tell me I was being too much, some that she was confused, and a special one that told me she loved me. This one was likely theThere are people watching usstare, as it was very similar to the one she gave me to avoid public displays of affection.

No matter. They were already there, not going anywhere, and I’d rehearsed what I wanted to say with my mother. “Samantha, you’re the first woman I’ve ever dated who sees me for who I am. I could tell you post-Impressionism is the best style and—”

She opened her mouth to debate, but I put a finger to her lips.

“—and you could give me at least five reasons why Impressionism is better. I’ve rarely dated women who would know what either was. They all wanted my money or my reputation. They saw me as a thing, not a person.”

A faint smile crept across her lips. “Sounds like you haven’t picked your girlfriends well.”

“No kidding,” muttered Sofia, and Samantha chuckled. Perhaps having them there would help, rather than hinder.

“There is truth to that.” I took a deep breath. “Until you. Everything is until you. There is my life before that night at Caruther’s and then my life after. I know you want to take things slow, and I’m trying. But from the night we met, there was a voice in my head that told me I was done with other women.”

A faint sigh escaped someone’s lips. Samantha’s free hand twitched, and I took it, stopping her before she could rub it across her face or put up a shield between us.

“I know your first reaction to this will be to say no, but have an open mind.”

“You flying home to see me is all I want for Christmas. I don’t need more stuff.”

“This is not just stuff.” I placed the hand I held on top of the box.

She was quiet.

The entire room was quiet.

Things were rolling about in her head, stories of losing her mother, her father’s abandonment, her best friend in college, her first marriage. The man who promised to move from Italia to be with her. All those people who were there for her one day and then weren’t the next.

I leaned close enough that only she would hear my quiet words. “I’m not going anywhere, bella.”

One of the women said something, but my focus was so tight on Samantha that it was little more than a buzz in the background.

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