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“I didn’t think I needed permission.” I smile with amusement at the contrast between her red lips and her peach-colored skin.
“You had no right to come here without telling me!” she snaps, her dark eyes flashing.
I lean my body against the wall, crossing my arms. “I was trying to help.”
“Help?” She glares at me, her voice rising. “Elio, I don’t know what games you’re playing, but this is my father. Okay? You don’t just show up to meet him unannounced?”
“Easy, Princess.” I close the tiny space between us, tucking her hair away from her face. “Listen, I’m not playing games with you, alright? You’re mine now…” Her lips part invitingly, but I take two steps away from her, shoving my hands back into my pockets as a nurse strides towards us, “...and I don’t play games with what’s mine. It’s as simple as that.”
“Fuck off, Donatelli, I’m warning you!” With that, she inhales deeply, exhaling through her mouth, her large, dark eyes now filled with fury, before pushing past me back down the hall.
My teeth grind against my jaw as her hips sway mercilessly until they recede into a corner. The marriage −fake or not− is the last step to making her unquestionablymine,and to successfully go through with that, I must be in her father’s good books.
What kind of son-in-law would I be if I can’t even check in to see how my future father-in-law is doing?
Father-in-law. It sounds extremely strange just thinking of it. Turning on my heels, I make my way back to his room. Whileshe’ll be processing his discharge papers, I’ll be here, giving Karl Abruzzi every reason to like me.
***
Aria’s father is already sitting up by the time we get back to his room. His wrinkling hands are now free from all the needles previously inserted into them. He’s looking more alert, as if the news of his discharge took ten years off him.
Aria places her hands all over him, making a fuss about what part of his body still hurts and if he’s sure he wants to return home alone or if we should take him home ourselves.
“We’re taking him home,” I say. Surprisingly, he nods without protesting. Aria turns around to catch my gaze, giving me a sneer. My teeth clamp down on my lips immediately, biting back a grin.
“Well, I guess that’s it then.” She places an arm around his shoulders to help him up. “We’ll get your belongings at the reception desk.”
“I’ll go bring the car closer to the exit doors,” I say, completely ignoring the two pairs of piercing dark eyes from Aria and Karl Abruzzi.
***
“That was a nice car you got there, Son.”
My eyes dart towards Aria, and a wide grin spreads across my face. “Thank you, Sir.”
Her eyes widen unbelievably.
“Son?” she calls out after her father, who is trying to open up the blinds in the living room of his place, which is where we ended up after Karl’s hospital discharge.
“It’s a good thing you called the cleaning agency to take care of this place earlier on, Aria. It would have been a mess by now,” he says, completely ignoring his daughter’s previous remark.
Aria shakes her head, still holding me in her piercing, disapproving gaze.
“I’ll just go prepare something for you to eat.” She turns around to walk away, but her father’s voice stops her.
“Why don’t you make a meal for all of us? It’s my first meeting with your fiancé, after all.”
She opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind and clamps it shut again, storming into the place I believe is the kitchen.
Karl’s house sits quietly on the corner of a modest street. A single-story bungalow with peeling white paint and a small, neatly tended front yard. This is the kind of house that speaks of family, love, and beautiful memories.
The living room is cozy, with a faded but well-kept sofa set, a coffee table polished to a shine, and an old television resting on a sturdy wooden stand.
Family photos line the walls, some slightly crooked, showcasing Aria’s life in snapshots: her high school graduation, a family vacation, a photo of her father in uniform, proud and young. There’s no picture of her mom or any other family member. I wonder if they’ve all been stashed away to help her and her dad move on from the painful losses.
There’s a faint scent of lavender in the air, likely from the bowl of potpourri on the table. Old, but classic.
“You know you can go join her in the kitchen. You’ve been staring in that direction since she left this room,” Karl’s voice calls out from the sofa where he’s seated.