Page 8 of Isabella

I don’t answer her because it wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“I have a few questions for you two, and I’m intrigued to hear your responses,” she adds.

And just like that, my nerves are back in full force.

6

NICCOLÒ

When I heard Isabella say “Mom” after opening her bedroom door, I nearly booked it out onto her balcony to hide. We’ve gone over what we would do if we were ever in a situation like this, but her mom has never shown up unannounced to her apartment before. There have been a few times I’ve had to leave her place, but we’ve never been caught.

Instead of going to hide out on her balcony, I froze and listened.

Isabella has never had to lie to her parents about us. Yes, she’s omitted the truth from them for the past year, but she’s never had to outright lie to them, and I wasn’t about to make her start tonight.

Asking her to keep our relationship to herself was fucking selfish of me, but I’ve done it for a good reason. Isabella might have a great relationship with her parents, but I can’t say the same for me and my dad. He doesn’t believe in love and doesn’t believe a woman serves any purpose other than to keep quiet and provide an heir. I wouldn’t let Isabella fall victim to my dad’s barbaric ways.

We’re walking out of Isabella’s apartment when I notice Cece typing on her phone. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know she’s messaging her guard. Without Aurelio DiMaggio accompanying his wife, I know he didn’t let her come up here on her own.

The only problem is that while I’m ready to have Cece know about us, I’m not ready foreveryoneto know about us. If Cece’s guard learns about Isabella and me, it would only be a matter of time beforeeveryonedoes—including my dad—and that’s not something that can happen.

“Cece,” I call out, grabbing her attention while Isabella finishes locking her apartment door.

Cece glances up from her phone and gives me a soft smile that reminds me of Isabella. I still can’t believe how calm she’s being about everything. It’s putting me on edge, thinking the other shoe will drop any minute now.

“Do you think it would be okay if I meet you and Isabella at the restaurant?” I ask. “And do you think you can convince your guard to stay in the car while you guys enjoy a nice mother-daughter dinner?”

I know my request is odd, but I need her to understand how crucial it is that our relationship doesn’t get back to my dad.

Cece studies me for a moment, her smile never faltering from her face. “I think I can do that, but this isn’t a ploy of yours to get out of dinner now, is it?” Her lighthearted tone instantly has me letting out a sigh of relief.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I say as Isabella places her hand on my arm.

I see the questions churning behind her confused eyes. Grasping her hand in mine, I say, “Go with your mom. I’ll meet you both at Trattoria Amalfi.”

A small smile forms on my girl’s face. “Of course. I should’ve guessed that,” she murmurs. “The restaurant where you first told me you love me.”

7

ISABELLA

The drive to Trattoria Amalfi is only fifteen minutes off campus, which is great because the silence between my mom and me is almost too deafening to handle. I’m sure her mind is running rampant with questions, which is probably why she’s decided to keep quiet during our car ride. She’s making sure she keeps her word and doesn’t let her longtime guard, Tony, find out about Nicco and me.

Tony pulls up to the front door to let my mom and me out. “I’ll circle around to the back and park in the parking lot. Just text me when you’re ready to leave, and I’ll come back around to pick you both up,” he says, closing the door behind us.

I knew he wouldn’t be too far away. He has to have eyes on the establishment at all times in case something happens.

Growing up the daughter of a don means I’m used to having a guard around. Fortunately for my family, it’s just my dad being proactive, or as I like to say, overprotective. There aren’t any active threats against our family and never have been for as long as I’ve been alive. Despite that, my dad likes to take extreme measures to make sure our safety is always considered.

My mom and I enter the dimly lit restaurant that’s radiating life, with patrons filling every available table. The space is intimate, but the tables are spread apart so you don’t feel like you’re on top of each other.

Nicco and I haven’t had a chance to come back to this restaurant since the night he said I love you, and I’m beginning to wonder why. The food is delicious and the ambiance is absolute perfection with the stylish and elegant furnishings paired with the low lighting. It gives off a very romantic feel.

We make our way up to the hostess who greets us with a large smile and a twinkle in her eye. “Are you part of the Silvestri party?”

I nod to her with furrowed brows.

She must sense my confusion because before leading us to our table, she says, “The other third of your party is already here and let me know who to look out for. Two lovely young ladies who are nearly the spitting image of each other.”

---