A Familiar Face
1043 Words
“Mamma mia, non adesso!”
“Dio mio!”
“Nonno, per l’amor del cielo!”
Victoria slowly turned to face Giovanni, but before she could speak, Emilio jumped in.
“Pardon our grandfather, Vickie. He’s dealing with a bit of forgetfulness. He’s mixed Giovanni up with a cousin of ours who’s, uh… divorcing his wife.”
She lifted her fork again. “I see.”
The old man only grunted in response. Then, “Where did you people meet?”
“We met at a restaurant, Grandpapa,” Giovanni replied, flipping open his napkin with cool precision. “Now, I would appreciate it if you let my fiancée eat.”
Grateful, Vickie exhaled. She wasn’t prepared for questions—certainly not these questions.
Her stomach growled. She pressed a hand over it as she stared at the… dish in front of her. What she wouldn’t give for a burger and a Coke.
Silverware clinked delicately—everyone else seemed to know exactly which fork to use, while Vickie kept praying she wouldn't stab herself with one.
There were three forks to her left, and Vickie stared at them like they were unexploded landmines.
She waited for Manila to move first, mimicking her grip on the smallest utensil with a hand that felt suddenly clumsy and oversized. When she finally managed a bite, the sound of her own chewing seemed to echo through the room like a gunshot.
“Find the meal to your satisfaction, Vickie, dear?”
Gio’s voice.
She glanced at him, searching for the mockery she was sure hid behind his eyes. But he only watched her, impassive.
And yet—she knew he was mocking her.
An hour later, the meal was over and Grandpa had finally given his blessing.
“You’ll have lots of babies for my Giovanni,” he announced as he shuffled toward the door with the others, ignoring how red she turned. “Big, healthy ones to carry on the family lineage.”
Emilio snickered at her expression.
“It was nice to meet you, Vickie.” Manila hugged her.
Then Giovanni’s mother hugged her. Then his father, leaving her wondering if Giovanni might be adopted.
The family filed out, leaving her alone in the dining room. She turned, only to find that Giovanni had disappeared.
“He’s upstairs in his room.”
The sudden voice made her jump and scream.
The speaker approached quickly, gesturing for her to calm down. “Sorry, Miss.”
He was a head shorter than her, wearing a mismatched outfit—baggy jeans, a ragged top, a diamond stud in one ear. His smile was easy, disarming and his hair was shaved low on the sides, leaving a longer mop on top.
“I’m Luigi,” he said, extending a hand.
Vickie shook it cautiously. “Nice to meet you.”
He stepped back. “So… you wanna go upstairs and say goodbye to the boss?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Actually—yes.”
She wanted to give that infuriating man a piece of her mind.
“Cool. First room on the right.”
“Thanks.”
She gathered her gown and climbed the stairs. She was almost at his door when her foot caught her hem—bang!
Her head smacked the door. She barely had time to groan before it flew open from the inside.
She stumbled headfirst and would have kissed the ground if something hadn't caught her just in time.
“Are you in the habit of using your head to knock on doors, Miss St. Cloud?”
She rubbed her forehead, wincing in pain. “No.”
“Why are you here?”
“I—” Her voice cut off as her gaze lifted.
He was shirtless. And sculpted.
Broad shoulders, defined arms, a chest that looked carved rather than grown. His abs stood out cleanly, not exaggerated, just solid and impossibly distracting.
A faint trail of hair led down from his navel, disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers, and she had to force herself to keep her eyes from following it.
He stood there silently, as though completely unaware—or maddeningly aware—of the effect he had on anyone who looked at him.
“Would you like to come in, Miss St. Cloud?”
She blinked. In the moment she’d been gawking, he’d stepped back into the room. A cigar now rested between his lips, and he’d tied a towel around his waist.
She cleared her throat and stepped inside.
“Sorry. I—phased out.”
The reply came softly. “I bet.”
He watched her as though waiting.
“You lied about the food,” she blurted.
He took a slow puff, exhaled smoke. “Did I?”
“Why did you hide your servants away?”
“Their presence annoys me. And so does yours, for that matter. Unfortunately, you’re a necessary evil.”
Heat rose under her skin in anger. “You aren’t the easiest person to get along with either.”
“I’ve been told.” He tilted his head. “Anything else, Miss St. Cloud?”
She twisted her fingers. “My… college situation. I was kicked out because I couldn’t pay. Is there a way you can help get me back in? I mean—you’re rich, you’re influential, and I really don’t want to start over and—”
“Miss St Cloud, breathe.”
She stopped. “Okay.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Is that all? In that case, Luigi will drive you home.”
“Thank you.”
He smiled—mechanically—and shut the door in her face.
Vickie sighed and headed downstairs, gathering her things with a wave of relief, glad that the day was over.
“I’ll drive you.”
She shrieked.
It was Luigi again.
“Sorry,” he said quickly, jerking back with hands raised like she'd pull a weapon. “I'm sorry. It's just me.”
She nodded and reached for the door just as it opened from the other side. She froze, and for a second her brain refused to match the familiar face to the unfamiliar place.
“Maddie?”
“Vickie?”
- Writer
