Page 56 of Till Death Do Us Part

I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I couldn’t seem to control myself around him. I wondered if we would ever have a meaningful conversation again. It was impossible to be this close to him and not need to have my hands on him. I’d spent more time naked than wearing clothes since I got here.

By dinner, he’d worked my body into a ravenous state. I made Mediterranean couscous salad for me, with chickpeas, cucumbers, a medley of olives, feta cheese and a squeeze of lemon. Steak and a potato for him. But I’d barely finished when he carried me back to the room.

It wasn’t until Sunday morning he told me he had plans for us, and we’d have to keep our clothes on for a while. I was freaked out a little. If someone saw me with him...

He’d already dressed in a pair of slacks that only upped his sex appeal. He pulled a long-sleeved black sweater over his head. “Get dressed, Dino.”

I sighed. I changed into a white placket top with a row of asymmetrical buttons, pairing it with a pair of faux leather pants and boots.

He helped me into my coat, and we left.

Chapter19

Roma

We went for a short drive around the city, passing The Chicago Theater, then stopping in the Fulton Market area. Felice pulled to the curb and told me he’d be right back. A line stretched underneath a black and white awning, outside of a pick-up window.

He came back with a cup of hot chocolate for me and two boxes of bomboloni, an Italian-style donut rolled in sugar and filled withcrema pasticciera(pastry cream). The car filled with a warm, sweet perfume, and it danced with the cold scent clinging to his coat.

“I didn’t take you for a sweet kind of guy.” I took a tentative sip of my hot chocolate through a straw, then moaned and closed my eyes. The presentation was art in a cup. Real chunks of chocolate on top, an actual donut wedged on the side, and whipped cream everywhere else. It even came with a spoon. But the taste? Out. Of. This. World.

Felice glanced over at me before he pulled away from the curb and into traffic. “I’ve always preferred meat. Until I had something strong enough to get me addicted to the sweeter side.” He set his hand between my thighs, and I closed my eyes again, taking slow, deep breaths.

His touch sent an electrical shock between my legs, and the car felt too hot.

It felt like a cold wind had blown in, giving me weather whiplash, when we pulled up to a house I didn’t recognize about fifteen minutes later.

I leaned forward some, checking it out. “Where are we?”

“Sunday dinner.”

“With your family?” I rushed out.

He smiled and used his thumb to wipe the hot chocolate mustache from my upper lip. “It’ll be fine.”

I hoped Felice was right. Italian Mammas could be very protective over their sons. I flipped the visor and did a once over of my face. I applied more lipstick and fixed my hair.

Felice held my hand and carried the two boxes of bomboloni. Questions rushed my thoughts as we made our way closer to the door.Will his mamma like me? Did I wear the right outfit? What if I say something stupid? What will she think about the age difference?

“Something to remember about Nonna Mafalda. She’s my maternal grandmother. She has dementia. When she was growing up, her family used to tell her she was Italian royalty. It seems to have stuck with her. Some days she thinks she’s a princess, and others she’s a queen. She’s nice when she’s the princess. But when she thinks she’s the queen, your curtsy better be good, or she demands violence.”

“Violence?”

“She’ll call for your head on a platter.”

Great.I tried not to obsess over that. I remembered he said his other Nonna, Alfonso’s ex-wife, lived with his Mamma too. “Your other Nonna?”

“Nonna Silvia. She’s in perfect health, just bitter. She didn’t take the divorce well. She’s determined to outlive Alfonso and theputtana.”

That made me smile. Felice caught it and grinned, holding my hand tighter. Or maybe I was squeezing the life from his after the door opened and his Mamma appeared without Felice having to knock. I felt like I didn’t have enough time to prepare for this.

I tried not to fidget as she took the boxes from Felice and kissed his cheeks. She was a short woman with a truly beautiful face. Her hair was black, and she had what Lo called “The Italian Cut.” It was shaggy, but also sculpted, with deep waves at the crown and spit curls framing her cheeks. It was probably inspired by Gina Lollobrigida.

She was built like her too. Her curves were apparent. She wore tight black pants with a black sweater adorned with diamond cuffs on the wrists. Her makeup was impeccable, and her jewelry almost blinded me when it was hit by the overhead lights.

Felice introduced us, and before I could saynice to meet you, she pulled me in for a hug. Corinna rubbed my back as she told me how great it was to meet me. I responded the same, then she moved out of the way so we could enter the house.

It was older but in amazing condition. It smelled of lemon cleaner, floral perfume, baby powder, and Italian food. Felice hung our coats and kept his hand on my lower back as we ventured further into the house.

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