Page 8 of Her Italian Wedding (Sweet Treats 9)

By now, there are tears streaming down my face, and Matteo wipes my cheek gently with a big thumb.

“Don’t cry, cara,” he rumbles. “You have suffered, but you also made it out in one piece.”

“Are you still in touch with Shoshanna?” asks Domenico. “Or have you lost touch?”

I sniffle a bit again.

“We’re still in touch,” I say. “Shoshanna is quite a bit older than me, so she’d already left Dads and Daughter by the time I turned eighteen. But we still talk sometimes. She married a very nice man, and now lives in a split level in Florida with two kids and a cute golden retriever. It’s the real American dream. Who knew it could happen?” I say tearfully again. “We were ‘lost girls’ whom society had rejected. But because of Dads and Daughters, we’ve found ways to be welcomed once again.”

At my heartfelt words, Domenico pulls me into his lap and looks deeply into my eyes. Matteo takes a place at my elbow, and the two men stroke my cheeks softly.

“You’ve suffered, Melissa,” Domenico intones. “But no more, cara. You belong to Dads and Daughters now, and you’re doing important work.”

I sniffle a bit again, smiling ruefully.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all that on you. I think when we said getting-to-know-you chitchat, we meant just some idle words to pass the time. But instead, I went Full Monty and totally let the dam break.”

The two men stroke my back.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. We enjoyed hearing your story, and maybe we’ll tell you ours sometime.”

I smile tearfully again at them.

“Sometime?” I say. “Why not now? Is it really sad, like my story?”

The two men chuckle.

“No, but we want to save it for later because right now, you deserve a kiss, cara.”

Before I realize it, Matteo seizes my lips with his, and the alpha male captures my mouth in a deep, soulful liplock. It tears through my soul and makes my heart race even as my insides begin to heat. Then he breaks contact, and Domenico kisses me. Male hands stroke my curves as I’m whisked away to a world of passion, my sweet spot tingling as I’m caressed and treasured by these two alpha males. Suddenly, the world comes into focus because I know that this is right. Maybe I have a sad family history. Maybe I have some issues that I need to work through after growing up in a group home. But with Matteo and Domenico by my side, I know I can make things work for the better no matter what.

3

Melissa

Matteo and Domenico grin as they pull the Range Rover off the main road and into a forest.

“I didn’t even know there were forests around Milan,” I say dubiously while staring out the window. The SUV trundles along, jouncing my curvy form up and down. “Who knew that a city this old would have forests nearby?”

Domenico grins, turning to look at me from the front passenger seat.

“Oh yes. Italy is very environmentally-minded, and the government started protecting public spaces about fifty years ago. These are all reserves, although some of the land is privately owned as well. Fortunately, we were able to buy a large plot from the principessa. It was difficult to negotiate a deal with the old woman, but eventually, Dads and Daughters snagged a prime piece of real estate.”

“The principessa, as in a princess?” I ask, confused. “I didn’t know there was royalty in Italy.”

The two men nod knowingly.

“Royalty here is more of a legacy title than anything else. They are old families who were once dukes, duchesses, and other types of nobility. They no longer wield political influence, but they still have titles, lands, and often a vast trove of wealth. The principessa we dealt with is a woman of eighty, and the last of her line. She didn’t want to sell the property, but it was better than turning it over to the government after her death.”

I nod.

“Wow, I had no idea. America doesn’t have nobility or royalty.”

The two Italian men shoot me a look as we bounce down the dirt path.

“Well, Americans don’t like to think they have nobility, but there certainly is “royalty” of a type. For example, aren’t the Kennedys considered American royalty? Didn’t they call John F. Kennedy’s administration “Camelot”?”

I think for a moment.

“Yes, you’re right, but JFK is special. He had an airport named after him, and he was the scion of a powerful political family.”

“You see?” asks Domenico with a smile. “There are powerful families in the United States, just as there are in any country. Perhaps the United States doesn’t have a delineated caste system which names names, but at the same time, there are certain social, economic, and political forces at work which are invisible yet influential.”

I nod slowly.

“Yes, I know what you mean. There’s been so much talk about inequality these days, and how children born today will have lower standards of living than their parents. It’s sad if you ask me.”

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