Page 111 of Scorned Beauty
My mother’s eyes fell on Sloane. Her nostrils flared and her jaw tightened. “You’re a friend of Bianca.”
“Yes. Sloane Scott.”
“We’ve met,” she replied. “Briefly.” Her gaze grew more disdainful when I lowered the cat carrier to let Ginger out. “What is this I’m hearing that you’re sleeping at The Grindhouse and got booted out of this penthouse?” She scrunched her nose and stepped away from Ginger when the cat circled her warily like Ma was an intruder.
Double fuck.
“No one booted me out. I wanted Sloane to stay here even when she offered to stay somewhere else.”
“Oh.” She reared back, appearing a little relieved, but her eyes drifted to the elaborate dahlia arrangement. “What’s your relationship to each other?”
After the initial shock of seeing my mother here, I gave her a peck on the cheek. “Ma, you know I love you with all my heart, but it’s none of your business.”
“Dominic!” she exclaimed my name with an Italian accent and offended tone.
“What? It’s not,” I replied in a teasing but firm manner.
Sloane laughed. She actually laughed, but she stepped to my side. “What Dom is trying to say is he wants us to be more, but I’m saying no.”
“You’re saying no to my son?” I worried about Ma’s blood pressure. Her entire face saidhow dare you reject my son, you commoner.
“But I’m hoping she’ll say yes.” I turned to Sloane. “Baby, can you give Ma and me a minute? And if you see my dear sister, please send her my way.”
“The problem, Dom, is this penthouse is massive, and it’s hard to tell if someone is around,” Sloane called as she sashayed away with her head held high.
My mother had the manners to at least wait until Sloane was out of sight before she leaned closer and hissed, “Dom, she’s the cleaner.”
I was prepared for her snobbery, but it still pissed me off. “So?”
“I don’t like to look down on people’s jobs?—”
“Yet that’s what you’re doing?—”
“And you don’t think she’s a gold digger?”
“Ma, do you know how hard I had to convince her to live here? You have no clue what happened to her because of my fuckup. She can take all this”—I waved my arm around the penthouse—“and it wouldn’t matter. I want her back. I’ll crawl on my knees if I have to.”
“What did you do?” she whispered.
“I. Fucked. Up. You’ll be ashamed I’m your son.”
“Moretti men always fuck up.” She said it in a way that everyone was supposed to forgive Moretti men, anyway.
“At least I got my head outta my ass sooner thanZioLuca.”
She harrumphed. “I don’t know what people will say. My son. A Harvard grad, a billionaire. A Moretti!”
“Ugh, Mamma, who cares?” Lucy came down the stairs looking like she just rolled out of bed.
“How are you feeling,stellina?”
“I’m better.”
Huh, since when did Ma start calling Lucy her little star again? It momentarily suppressed the rise of my temper, but my mother continuing to pile on her prejudice against Sloane was making it a struggle not to lash out at her.
In my years as don, I’d learned the art of negotiation. I was the even-tempered one among my De Lucci cousins and Luca. One would say handling my mother prepared me to be the statesman when it came to family. But I never had someone storming in from the outside like Sloane who I valued above the threat of losing the even hand I employed to running the crime family.
Protect that choice with your life.
