Page 27 of Saint
My mother and Aunt Olive exchange a look I’ve seen a thousand times—the “Lily’s being difficult again” look that makes me feel like I’m twelve instead of a woman on the verge of twenty.
“Darling, we’re just suggesting you get out more,” Mom says, her voice honey-sweet. “You’ve been moping around the house for days.”
Because I’m hiding from a man who makes my body burn and my mind race, I think but don’t say.
“I’m not moping,” I protest instead. “I’m just... taking some time to think.”
Aunt Olive reaches over to pat my hand. “About what, dear? Your studies? Because your mother tells me you’ve been quite distant since you came home.”
I take a sip of water, buying time. These two women, so similar with their perfect hair and shrewd eyes, have always been able to extract information from me with terrifying efficiency.
“Actually,” I hear myself saying before I can stop, “I’ve met someone.”
Their heads snap up in perfect synchronization, like meerkats spotting a predator.
“You have?” My mother’s voice rises with interest. “Who is he? Why haven’t you mentioned him before?”
I immediately regret opening this door. “It’s... complicated. I’m not sure you’d approve.”
“Try us,” Aunt Olive challenges, leaning forward with undisguised curiosity.
I fiddle with my napkin. “He’s a bit older.”
“How much older?” My mother’s eyes narrow slightly.
“Enough to be established. Successful.” I choose my words carefully. “He’s very... intense. Handsome. Wealthy.”
“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad,” Aunt Olive says, looking relieved. “What’s his name? What family is he from?”
“I’d rather not say just yet.” I take another bite of salad, chewing slowly. “I’m still figuring things out. It’s not serious...yet.”
The lie tastes bitter on my tongue. Whatever is happening between Luca and me feels more serious than anything I’ve ever experienced.
“Is he from a good family?” My mother persists. “Someone we know?”
“You might know of him,” I admit. “But please, can we drop it for now? I promise I’ll tell you everything when I’m ready.”
My phone buzzes in my purse, saving me from further interrogation. “Excuse me,” I murmur, grateful for the interruption.
I pull out my phone, and my heart stutters when I see Luca’s name on the screen. Three new messages.
Luca: I miss you, baby girl. I’ll try to be patient.
Luca: But not for long.
Luca: If you’re not ready, I can give you a few more days. Just tell me what you need.
My fingers hover over the screen, conflicted. The intensity of my feelings for him terrifies me. It’s not just physical—though God knows my body responds to him like it’s been waiting for his touch my entire life. It’s the way he looks at me, like he sees parts of me no one else has ever noticed.
But he’s dangerous. I’m not naive enough to believe the rumors about his connections are entirely fabricated. My father would have a coronary if he knew I was even speaking to Luca Ravello, let alone contemplating...what? A relationship? An affair?
I type back quickly:
I need more than a few days. My family would never approve, and I can’t just follow my emotions without thinking this through.
I send it before I can reconsider, then look up to find my mother and aunt watching me with identical knowing smiles.
“Just a friend,” I say, slipping my phone back into my purse.
