Page 28 of The Empress
Just like Haven, Mamma’s easily half my size. She’s almost sixty, and the difficult life she lived with my father shows on her face.
I make an effort to soften the expression on my face. “Haven’s from America. She’s beautiful.”
She lets out a heavy sigh. “I didn’t want an arranged marriage for you.”
“I know.” I get up from the chair and move around the table. I wait for Mamma to climb to her feet, then pull her into a hug. “I just wanted to tell you about the wedding and to get the ring.”
I never thought the day would come when I’d ask my mother for the wedding ring that’s been passed down for four generations in my family.
Mamma pulls away from me, and I follow her to where the wall safe is in her bedroom. She keys in the code, and when the door clicks open, she removes the tiny box from the safe.
I watch as she opens the box, and for a moment, she stares at the ring. “I hope it will give your bride more happiness than it brought me.”
“I’m sure it will,” I say.
She places the box in my palm before her eyes lift to mine. “Are you sure, Leo?”
No. Not at all.
Lying to my mother, I nod. “Yeah.” Tucking the box into my pocket, I lean down and press a kiss to her forehead. “I have to head home.”
As we walk toward the front door, Mamma asks, “Will I meet Haven before the wedding?”
I shake my head. “I’m too busy right now.”
I can see Mamma’s not happy with my reply, but she doesn’t push the subject.
Lifting my arm, I give her shoulder a squeeze while pressing kisses to both her cheeks. “Have a good night, Mamma.”
She watches me from the front door as I walk to the Porsche, and when I start the engine and drive away, I’m overly conscious of the wedding ring in my pocket.
I have the meeting with the other alliance members tomorrow. Other than that, I can take some time to get to know Haven better.
I need to find some clarity on the matter before Massimo is done making all the arrangements.
Yeah, maybe I should take a couple of days off.
After the wedding, I have to focus all my resources on finding Vito Santoro and that fucking rat, Sebastiano.
Feeling better now that I have some kind of plan, my aggression lessens during the drive home.
I park the car in the garage, and getting out, I enter the mansion through the kitchen entrance. As always, silence greets me.
There’s no sign of Haven, so I take the stairs to the second floor, where I’m met with a shut door. I suck in a deep breath before I knock.
It takes close to a minute before I hear movement, and Haven comes to open the door. Her features are tight with caution and fear, so I keep my tone as gentle as possible when I say, “Give me your passport.”
Her eyes widen. “Why?”
I’m not used to being questioned, and it has annoyance flare up in my chest. “Just get your passport.”
With a frown on her forehead, she walks to the bed and digs her passport out of her handbag.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, and when she hands me the book, I open it to the page with her details and take a photo.
Done, I hand the passport back to her. “Come join me in the living room so we can talk.”
It’s clear she doesn’t want to be around me, but at least she doesn’t put up a fight. After she shoves her passport back into her handbag, she follows me down the stairs.
