11. LAYLA
11
LAYLA
“You’re seriously living the dream. Who rents out a theatre?”
I shoot Giana a sharp look as I fold Vincent’s tiny onesies into the laundry basket. “You’re making it sound way more romantic than it was.”
She smirks, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Am I? Or are you just in denial?”
I roll my eyes, but my stomach gives an uncomfortable twist.
Because, maybe she has a point.
I told myself, over and over, that Valentino Marchetti was just a business partner, just a means to an end.
Still, I refuse to give Giana the satisfaction. “It was just a nice gesture.”
She gasps dramatically, clutching her chest. “A nice gesture? Valentino? The Valentino? Mr. ‘I-don’t-do-emotions’? That man is about as soft as a steel rod, and yet, he surprises you with pastries on your break?”
I sigh, dropping onto the couch beside her. “It doesn’t mean anything, G.”
She hums knowingly, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Sure, it doesn’t.”
I ignore her tone and pointed look, shifting the conversation to a safer topic.
“Anyway, he invited me to meet his family this weekend.”
Giana’s eyes go wide. “Wait. Hold on. Back up. You’re meeting the Marchettis? Like… all of them?”
I nod, biting my lower lip. “I don’t know why, but… I’m nervous.”
She sits up straight, for once, her expression serious. “Of course, you are! Meeting the family is a big deal.”
I exhale, running my hands through my hair. “I haven’t even given him a definite answer yet. I told him I’d have to figure out Vincent’s babysitting situation first.”
Giana waves a hand dismissively. “That’s not a problem. I’ve got you covered.”
A wave of gratitude washes over me. “Thanks, G. My mom can take care of him one day, and you the next.”
“Yep, no worries.” She studies me carefully, eyes narrowing. “Is there something I should know about you two?”
I freeze for a second, then force a casual shrug. “I just don’t know how I’m supposed to act in front of his family for an entire weekend. It feels like a lot of pressure.”
“You’ll be fine, girl. If you can resurrect the shop from ruin, you can handle anything,” Giana states with confidence.
What she doesn’t know is that the problem isn’t just the act of pretending, it’s the fact that pretending around Valentino is starting to feel… way too easy.
And then, there’s the other problem.
“He’s already met Vincent.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “And they got along really well.”
Giana’s playful smirk vanishes.
“Layla…”
“I don’t think he suspects anything,” I rush to say. “At least… not yet.”
“But for how long? Those Marchetti genes are strong. What if he starts to notice the similarities?”
My chest tightens.
I’ve already seen it. It’s not just the eyes. It’s also the way Vincent looks at him, the way their bond formed so naturally, so effortlessly, like it was always meant to be.
It scares the hell out of me.
Because how much longer can I really keep this secret?
“I don’t want to keep Vincent away from his dad,” I whisper, twisting my fingers in my lap. “I’d be repeating the same mistakes my mom did.”
Giana nods slowly. “But are you ready to tell him?”
I swallow hard. “Not in the slightest.”
She exhales, giving my hand a small squeeze. “Whenever you are, you know I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks, G.” I shake my head, forcing myself out of my spiraling thoughts. “Anyway, let’s move on. I need to pack for this weekend.”
She grins, bouncing up. “Lucky for you, your personal stylist is here. Okay, let’s see what we’re working with.”
I groan. “I don’t think I have anything nice enough to wear. The Marchettis are practically royalty.”
“Then we go shopping.” She beams. “Come on, I need to fix this fashion disaster.”
***
When my mom arrives to pick up Vincent, she’s immediately suspicious.
“So… this place you’re going this weekend,” she starts, watching me closely. “Is it for work?”
“You could say that,” I hedge, not meeting her gaze.
Her eyebrow lifts. “Is there some secret boyfriend I don’t know about?”
I nearly choke. “Mom!”
She turns to Giana. “Is she telling the truth?”
Giana grins, way too entertained by all of this. “I don’t know, Bella. You’re going to have to ask your daughter.”
I groan. “Mom, relax. If I had a boyfriend, you’d be the first to know.”
She doesn’t look entirely convinced, but thankfully, she lets it go. After a few more probing glances, she softens, crouching to scoop Vincent up into her arms. “Say bye to Mommy.”
Vincent presses a wet kiss to my cheek, wrapping his little arms around my neck. “Bye-bye, Mama!”
I hold him close for a second longer, inhaling his sweet, familiar scent. “Be good for Nonna, okay?”
He nods enthusiastically.
“he’s been a little tired lately, so try to get him to rest some, ok?”
“Of course. Is everything alright with him?”
“I’m sure it’s nothing, but you know me. I’m just a bit of a worrier. Just call me if he needs me, ok?”
She nods before carrying him toward the car, still giving me one last pointed I’m-watching-you glance before driving off.
Once they’re gone, Giana sighs dramatically, tossing an arm over my shoulder. “So, secret boyfriend, huh? I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell your own mother.”
I shove her off. “Shut up.”
She just laughs.
We decide to hit the mall, something I haven’t done in what feels like years.
Between raising a child and running a business, I barely remember what it feels like to just have fun. To browse aimlessly, touch soft fabrics, and let myself get lost in the world of fashion without worrying about price tags or practicality.
Giana, on the other hand, is in her element. “Oh my God, look at this,” she gasps, holding up a ridiculously tiny designer purse. “It could barely hold a pack of gum, but it’s adorable.”
I snort. “You’re paying for esthetic over function at that point.”
She clutches the purse dramatically to her chest. “Welcome to the fashion industry, sweetheart.”
I roll my eyes, but it feels good to be out, to be doing something just for myself.
And then, we run into her .
At first, I don’t recognize the woman yelling at the salesclerk across the boutique.
“This place is such a dump!” She tosses a dress onto the counter with a flick of her wrist. “How can you even call this a boutique?”
Something about her tone, the air of entitlement, makes my skin crawl.
Then, it clicks.
Eva.
My entire body stiffens as if on instinct.
Giana notices immediately. “What’s wrong?”
I swallow, keeping my voice low. “That’s her.”
“Who?”
“Eva Costa. The woman causing all of Valentino’s problems. She’s accusing his family of withholding her share of the Marchetti vineyard.”
Giana’s eyes widen as she whips her head toward the scene unfolding before us. “No. Way.”
I nod, watching as Eva continues her tirade, completely oblivious to the looks of discomfort and irritation from the boutique employees. She wears her privilege like armor, stomping around like she owns the place.
Then, with one last huff, she storms out, her heels clicking against the marble floors, head held high in manufactured superiority.
The air around us settles, but the tension in my shoulders remains.
Giana is shaking her head. “Well… That was… underwhelming. I expected something more evil-villain from her.”
I exhale, shaking my head. “She’s exactly what I expected.”
Giana nudges me. “You okay?”
I let out a slow breath, forcing a shrug. “Yeah. Let’s just get back to shopping.”
But as we continue browsing, my mind lingers on Eva, on Valentino, on the tangled mess I’ve found myself in.
We spend hours flitting through dresses.
There is just one dress left for me to try, and I put it on.
The baby-blue silk gown that hugs me perfectly, the deep neckline risky but elegant, the slit high enough to make Valentino forget how to breathe.
Giana gasps. “Oh, my god. This is it.”
I turn to the mirror, my breath catching.
It’s perfect.
Giana smirks. “Valentino is going to lose his damn mind when he sees you in this.”
I bite my lip.
Do I want him to look at me that way?
Yes.
And suddenly, I don’t know whether I’m excited or absolutely terrified.
Because if I keep playing this game, I might just lose myself in it.