Page 40 of His Fantasy Bride (Things To Do Before You Die)

Or more likely, it would have given her a chance to think up a believable excuse to not turn up at all.

After tomorrow, she’d very likely never see Vito again. She didn’t want to meet his parents and get deeper into his life. She’d only agreed because she’d known it was never going to happen.

“But you like surprises,” Vito murmured.

Not surprises like this one. She narrowed her eyes on his face; his expression was bland. Was he being purposefully obtuse?

Grr.

She tried to back away, but he took hold of her wrist, tugged her gently forward. “They’re dying to meet you.”

“Not happening.” She glanced down at her red dress, the pale skin of her breasts bursting out from the low neckline. Looked back up. “I can’t meet your parents looking like this. I look like a scarlet woman. And they’re missionaries.”

“They’ll love you.”

He tugged a little more, and she looked wildly about, searching for a way to escape, and his lips twitched.

She gritted her teeth. “This is so not funny.”

He paused and turned to face her. “No, it’s not.” His gaze drifted down over her, and his eyes grew hot and heavy. “I take it this means tonight—”

“Hah. It doesn’t mean anything. And if it did mean that, it doesn’t anymore.” She scowled. “I’m mad at you. I can’t believe you didn’t call me.”

“And then I would have missed this. You look stunning, and right now all I want to do is whisk you away somewhere and make love to you until we’re both too tired and too sore to move. But they’re here, so smile, and let’s do this.”

But I don’t want to.

The truth was that if she had to meet them, then she wanted his parents to like her, even if the logical part of her mind said it didn’t matter what they thought.

She jumped as Vito slid a hand down to the small of her back and urged her forward. A man and a woman were on their feet by a table set for four. His father was an older version of Vito, still lean and handsome in a dark gray suit. The woman was younger, medium height, slender, her blond hair caught up in a neat chignon and her face free of makeup except for a pale lipstick. She held out her hand, and Gabby stared at it. Her brain seemed to have gone blank.

Vito leaned in close. “You’re supposed to take it,” he murmured in her ear.

How to make a good first impression, by Mad Gabby Harper.

She gave herself a mental shake, pasted a smile on her face, and took the woman’s hand.

“I’m Lucy,” the woman said. “And this is Paulo, Vito’s father.”

“Hello, I’m Gabby.” Maybe time for a bit of honest speaking. She waved a hand down her dress. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to meet you tonight. I would have dressed more appropriately.” Perhaps she should tell them she was on route to a fancy dress party.

His father had an amused twinkle in his eyes. “You look beautiful, Gabby. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my son at a loss for words.” He shook her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

She waited while the hostess pulled out a chair, before collapsing into it and giving a bright smile to his parents. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”Just get through this. She could do it. But she felt all tongue-tied. “Vito has told me so much about you both.”

His parents sat down opposite, and Vito took the seat next to hers. She jumped as his hand squeezed her thigh.

Was he crazy? Touching her up with his parents opposite? She wanted to snap at him to keep his hands to himself, but that would hardly give a good impression.

“So tell us about yourself, Gabby? Where did you and Vito meet?”

Her stomach flipped. She didn’t want to lie to these people; they seemed genuinely nice and welcoming. Vito pushed a glass of red wine in front of her and she took a sip. Then a gulp followed by a deep breath. She was an actress wasn’t she? She could do this, and she started talking.

Their food came—she couldn’t even remember what she had ordered. Her appetite had abandoned her, and she just picked at her meal. In a lull in the conversation, she gave Vito a quick sideways glance, then paused to look longer. He wasn’t eating much, either, or joining in with the conversation. Instead, he sat back in his chair, watching her, a hungry expression in his eyes. She swallowed as heat washed through her.

Not the time, or the place, or the company, Gabby.

She gave herself a little shake and turned back to his parents. “What was Vito like as a boy?” she asked.

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