Page 4 of The Agreement

“Valentina?” She lifted up her head and watched her dad walk out of the house and came to sit next to her on the lounge chair.

“Yes,papà(dad)?”

“I hate fighting with you.” Valentina looked down at her lap and her dad sighed. “I shouldn’t have yelled, but I know how your temper can be. And the last thing we need is to be back at war with the Constantini family.”

“I know, and you know that I would respect the contract. I have done nothing to disappoint you. Unless….” She trailed off, swiping at the tears that had formed on her cheeks.

“Unless what,figlia(daughter)?”

“Unless you were upset that I was a female and not a male?”

“Oh, Valentina,” he cried, pulling her in his arms. She slide her arms around his waist as his hands ran over her back. “Baby, I adore you, and I’m happy I have you as my daughter. No, I could never be upset you were a female. Who would utter something so very cruel?”

“It was said in anger,” she replied, knowing that if she said who, Rafael would be seeking blood. No one hurt his daughter, his pride and joy, no matter what else was going on.

“I love you Valentina, and I think you are an amazing woman, who just has a bit of a firey streak. It’s not bad, but it can be.” He wiped her tears and kissed her forehead. “No, figlia, I am so very proud of you that I could never be upset at having you.”

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She sat back in her chair, one leg crossed over the other; a glass of wine in her hand, and her eyes focused on the two older men at the other table. They had left both her and Vinny to discuss everything and when they were done, all four parties would sign.

“Is this ever something you thought of?” Valentina wrinkled her brow for a moment over the question before she looked at the young man next to her.

“Actually, yeah. I knew I would never really find my own love to marry, knew my dad would pawn me off somewhere.” They both shared a smile at that.

“Why is that? That you think that I mean.”

“I was never allowed to have a boyfriend.” Giovanni just about choked on the wine he was sipping. He had seen plenty of men, both young and old; throw themselves at her, trying their best to get her attention. Oh, sure, she would flirt with them, but nothing more ever came from it, so therefore he always thought her a snob. Almost like no one was ever good enough for her. But now, that was all her dad’s doing, a thought he never ever thought of.

“Why?”

“My dad may not have been disappointed in me that I was a female,” at that comment, Vinny winced. It hadn’t been the purpose to hurt her, just to get under her skin; a goal he achieved a little too well it seemed.

“Mi dispiace(I’m sorry).” She waved her hand.

“No worries. While I may not have been what he wanted, as in a boy, I was my father’s daughter, and that meant extra precautions.”

“Are you a spoiled princess?” He had always thought she was. Wait, no, he hadn’t. He had seen moments of a truly compassionate heart.

“I would say that would depend on how you define it. My dad has always bought me nice things, and I get a new car every other year, but I don’t go stamping my foot in anger when things don’t go my way.”

“Just when someone pisses you off.” She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye before shifting to look at him.

“I am Italian, we come with short fuses. I am sorry if that goes against the other females you sleep with.” She paused and tilted her head in silent compilation before asking her next question. “Do Italian women turn you off? Do you not like us? I don’t recall ever seeing one on your arm.”

“Mia madre(my mother).”

“I’m sorry?”

“When I became a raging teenager, I had a party where a whole bunch of people were invited. And there was this gorgeous young lady from a different family. There I was telling my buddies about how gorgeous I thought she was and what I wanted to do. My mom overheard and said nope. I could treat any other woman however I wanted to, but I would treat Italian women with respect; that one day I would marry one. And when I had my daughter I would understand.”

“What does your mom have against other races?”

“Nothing, but my mother is an old-school Italian, she wasn’t even born in the states, but in a small village in Italy.” She just stared at him before shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I mean no disrespect.”

“Old school Italians are all a different breed.” That she could agree with. Both of her parents were born in the States, but her grandparents weren’t and she always had interesting talks with them.

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