Page 9 of His Little Spitfire

I take a step back and bump into a stand with one hell of an expensive vase on it. Not even the rocking sound is enough to make me turn my back to her.

“Can I help you?” Straightening my shoulders, I’ve mastered the appearance of looking tough. She must not agree, because the corners of her eyes crinkle.

“Relax, dear.” Swatting her hand, she takes two steps toward me. “Just wanted to meet my future daughter, that’s all.”

Daughter?

“Bia?” I repeat her name slowly, remembering Camellia telling me about Santino’s mother and how she helped her get comfortable on the day Rocco sent her to this place.

I expected Urzo’s mother to be a little… well, bigger. Someone who could handle a big brute of a son like him. Not some frail lady who looks like all it’ll take is one gust of wind to steal her away.

As she nods, she reaches out to take my hand. She may look weak, but she squeezes my hand hard enough to knock away these fearful thoughts.

“First, Santino makes it impossible to speak with Camellia with the way he’s dragging her everywhere with him. Now, Urzo can’t leave you alone for more than five minutes.” Her thumb brushes my knuckles, and her lips curve into a smile. “How’d you get away from him?”

There’s something in her eyes, something that seems like she’s familiar with what I’ve done. Finally, the tension in my shoulders relaxes.

“Left him while he was on the toilet. By now, he must have noticed.” I roll my eyes and shake my head. “He’s probably pissed. Maybe he doesn’t care. I can’t tell with the guy.”

As she tilts her head back and laughs, I’m wondering if he’ll try to punish me again now that I’ve run.

He wouldn’t spank me in front of his mother. Even he’s got to have a line he won’t cross.

“Come, let’s go hide then. I know one place he won’t think to check,” she muses as she tugs on my hand.

Despite knowing I shouldn’t lower my guard, not with any Bertelli, I do.

Like this is some kind of sneaking mission, she checks corners, and doesn’t bat an eye when telling the grunts to mind their business.

Alright. Bia Bertelli isn’t too bad. She’s got a backbone, even if the rest of them are aged with arthritis.

She takes me to a library of all places. To think a place like this even exists is surprising in itself.

“My husband put it in only weeks after our marriage,” she explains with a look of confusion on my face. “Though, my boys never use it. This room is where I usually get lost in when I need an escape.” She inhales slowly as she takes in the multiple shelves full of books. “Lots of memories here. Are you much of a reader?”

Shaking my head, my ears burn at the thought of telling her I grew up more on watching makeup tutorials, and watching movies over reading what they originated from.

“Camellia’s huge on books. Show her this place, and Santino might threaten to take it away.” I’m joking, kind of. Still, she rolls her eyes. “After the days I’ve had, I’ll take what silence I can.”

It’s strange. With my sister, I haven’t breathed a word about how I’ve felt. Sure, I’ve tried to convince her to escape with me, but that’s all there is to it. She’s been so absorbed in her love life that I haven’t thought to list my complaints about what’s been going on in my life.

Bia takes me over to a leather couch and slowly sinks into the seat. Urging me to follow, I plop down.

The both of us, we sit here for a couple of minutes and soak in the peace. I truly relax for the first time in what feels like ages.

“When I met Leon, I didn’t like him either, you know?” I look over and notice her eyes closed as she remembers. “My mother insisted the Bertelli family would save mine from drowning in our debts. They didn’t even let me meet him before shoving me in some tight, uncomfortable dress. Things were different back then, more violent, more bloody.”

My fingers tangle against my lap, and my brows furrow together.

“My mother and father, their marriage was terrible.” She snorts as she shakes her head. “Got my attitude from her, and she swore my mouth would be my undoing. It would be my husband’s duty to straighten me out.”

“Your mother sounds like a cunt,” I mutter, unable to help myself.

Bia slaps my thigh, nodding her head as she opens her eyes once more. There’s no sadness, no anger, just a light to them. She’s amused, agreeing with me.

“Like you, my dear, my family forced me into an arrangement I wanted nothing to do with. Poor Leon, the man fell in love with me right at the altar. He loved telling me so himself. Me, on the other hand, tried to run as many times as I could. He didn’t treat me like my parents treated each other. When I ran, he was there to hunt me down. Like a game, almost.” She snorts and shakes her head. “That man… he was something.”

“Urzo, too,” I mumble, agreeing with her. All the Bertelli men must be a handful. “So, what, you think I’m looking at this marriage wrong? You think I’ll be happy with your son?” I scoff and shake my head at the very thought.

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