6. Niccolò
6
NICCOLò
W hen 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 for everyone to know about us. If Cece’s guard learns about Isabella and me, it would only be a matter of time before everyone does—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.”