Page 85 of Broken Pieces
He grabs my hand, interlacing our fingers. “It’ll be fine. I told you, I’m all in,Tesoro.”
I can’t lie that the offer is tempting. He can act as a buffer and maybe my mother will get her shit together and keep the condescending comments to herself.
“Okay, deal.”
What can possibly go wrong, anyway?
We’re on our way to Lorenzo’s, the tension radiating from her keeps growing as we approach the restaurant. Her demeanor changed as soon as she told me about this lunch. She’s quieter, fidgeting her fingers, and biting her nails. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this distraught, and my chest clenches as this primal sense of protection finds a way inside of me. Wanting nothing more than to hold her and shield her from what’s bothering her, I have no idea what I’m walking into, but I’m prepared. I’m not above fighting tooth and nail over her, including her mother. Anyone who comes after her is fair game in my world.
The driver stops in front of the restaurant, and I’m praying to the heavens that Enzo doesn’t show up at hisrestaurant today, because the last thing I want to do is deal with his annoying ass. Getting out of the car, I extend my hand, letting her grab it as she’s exiting.
Stopping in front of the restaurant’s door, I turn to her, grabbing her shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze. “Are you okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “For the tenth time, yes. I’m fine.”
Her eyes say otherwise, though. The way her gaze clouds, her eyes turning a darker, dull color is telling me something completely different. I don’t want to add more pressure than she’s under right now, but it’d be nice to have a grasp on what the fuck is happening. She’s afraid, that little I can tell. She probably believes that I won’t support her, that I’ll run away. If only she knew there’s nothing she could do that would make me walk away from her. I’m on her side, and always will be.
I let out a resigned sigh. “If I see you’re getting too uncomfortable, we’re leaving, okay?”
“So protective,” she jokes.
My shoulders relax a little at her witty comeback. At least she’s joking, I’ll take that. Bringing her in for a hug, I kiss the top of her head and inhale her sweet strawberry scent, whispering, “Oh, you have no idea.”
Walking in, she lets the host know the name of the reservation. The hostess nods and walks us to the table where a woman with black, long hair is sitting, giving us her back.
“Hi, Mom.” Her voice trembles slightly.
Even the tone of her voice is different. It’s more careful, almost afraid. She’s not the firecracker I know and have grown to love.
The woman looks up, and I’m met with the same set of eyes as Aria’s. Well, the same color, anyway. They don’t hold the same fire as Aria’s eyes do. They’re dull. She gets up from her chair, giving Aria a glance over. “What have I told you about your hair?”
What the fuck?
She winces like the words physically slapped her somehow. “I didn’t have time to straighten it, sorry.”
What in the actual fuck is going on here?
Aria’s mom puffs. “I swear to God, Aria. At this point, I’ll never be a grandma if you don’t start taking care of yourself. How are you going to attract any male prospects looking like that?”
My blood pressure spikes as I hear the words come out of her mouth. The woman is so self-centered that she hasn’t even noticed I’m standing right next to her daughter. And what the fuck is that comment about? Aria’s fucking stunning. Her hair is my favorite quality. It reminds me of fire and essence, and all the things that are good in life.
I lick the top of my teeth and fake cough to announce my presence. “Hi, Ms. Petrov. I’m Damian Romano. Aria’sboyfriend.” I extend my hand, a fake smile plastered all over my face. The type of smile I throw to slimybusinessmen who try to pull one over on me and think I have no idea.
Aria looks at me, surprise lacing her face as she mouths ‘What the hell are you doing?’
I glare at her with an ‘Act cool’ look.
Aria’s mom studies me from top to bottom, her eyes glinting with curiosity. She takes my hand, shaking it. “Please, call me Eleanor.”
We walk around the table as I bring out a chair for Aria, letting her sit next to her mother.
“Wow, a gentleman. How lucky,” she comments condescendingly.
Sitting next to Aria, I grab her hand underneath the table and squeeze it in reassurance.
“How was the drive?” Aria asks.
“Exhausting.” She rolls her eyes. “So, Damian, what do you do?”
