Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 82908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82908 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry, Carina.”
She shrugged. “Meh. It happened a long time ago. Plus, my dad has four older sisters. Peanut will have plenty of female love.”
“That is a lot of women.” I shook my head, trying to imagine four sisters. Hell, one was hard to imagine. “Will I get to meet them then?”
“Oh yeah, and they will eat you up.”
I pulled to a stop and turned off the car before facing her. “Then it’s a good thing I’m delicious.”
I left her laughing in the car and ran around to open her door, enjoying the electricity that shot up my arm when she placed her hand in mine to get out.
As we walked up the steps to my parents’ ostentatious house, I muttered out the side of my mouth. “Wink three times if you want to get out of here.”
“Will do. Eye twitch it is for escape.”
I mimicked the move, over exaggerating, as I opened the door. She had to rest a hand to her stomach as she laughed, and I wanted to slam the door, pretend we were never there, and take her somewhere to be alone. But it was too late because my mom pulled the door open the rest of the way and tugged me down for a hug.
“Ian,” my father greeted from the other side of the foyer, a glass of scotch in his hand.
“And you must be, Carina.” My mother’s eyes flicked between Carina’s bump and back up to her face. “Look at you. You’re gorgeous.”
“Oh, thank you. You’re too kind.”
“Way too beautiful for my son,” my father said, stepping up to shake Carina’s hand. I fought not to roll my eyes. He delivered it as a joke, but I heard the undertones of truth.
Carina blushed a little but didn’t drop her stare from my father’s, and it was the same bold look she gave Erik and me in meetings. I bet she was a total shark when it came to business. I knew she drove a hard bargain when Bergamo and Brandt hired her.
“I’m Santo, and this is my wife, Mirabella.”
My mother skipped the handshake and pulled Carina down for a hug. My mother was barely above five-foot, and Carina towered over her, especially in her heels, which I had no idea how she was still walking in.
“Thank you for having me. Dinner smells delicious.”
“Well, I sure didn’t make it. I’m not much of a cook, much to my Italian mother-in-law’s distaste.” She waved us toward the dining room. “Now, come sit. Would you like water, tea? We have just about anything.”
“Water would be great.”
I made sure to pull her chair out and perform all the perfect gentlemanly duties.
It didn’t stop my dad from making little digs here and there, all under the veil of joking. I somehow made it through most of dinner without drinking glass after glass of bourbon. Looking at Carina through the meal helped immensely. She was gorgeous and calm and polite. Not that I expected anything else, but she knocked each conversation topic out of the park.
“So, do you have any family traditions around the holidays?” Carina asked.
“We don’t really do holidays,” I answered before my parents could. “Mom and Dad are usually gone.”
Carina’s smile slipped for the first time the whole meal when she looked to me with concern. Apparently, I hadn’t done a very good job of masking the resentment.
My mother rushed to smooth it over. “I’m sure we can be here for a few holidays for the baby.”
“Of course. For the baby,” I raised my glass, saluting my mom before taking a drink.
My dad hid his scowl behind his own drink, forming a smile by the time he set it back on the table. “So, Carina. Have either of you discussed what you will do next? Marriage,” he suggested like he was asking if she wanted cake after dinner. “Maybe move in together?”
“Oh…umm.” Carina fidgeted with her fork as she thought over her words, looking to me for help. I responded with as many winks as I could muster, bringing forth a sigh of relief.
“Ian, what’s wrong with your eye?” Mom asked.
I rubbed at my eye. “I feel like something is in there.”
Carina hopped in without missing a beat. “That was bothering you before. Maybe you should rest it.”
“Yeah, it’s been slowly getting worse as the day goes on.” I gave the most sympathetic look I could manage to my parents. “Sorry, but I think we should be heading home.”
“Are you sure? We could move to the sitting room for drinks and coffee,” my mom suggested.
“I appreciate the offer, but I also have to work tomorrow. Early meetings.”
“Of course, of course. Let us walk you out.”
We all made our way to the front door and handshakes, hugs, and promises for future gatherings happened before we were finally set free. I made sure to rub at my eye a sufficient amount to keep up the ruse until we got in the car.