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‘We used to before she passed.’ Jasmine could sense the longing wafting from him. Then he smirked, lightened his tone. ‘Perhaps I could teach you,’ he said to Jasmine.
‘I agree.Ifyou’re the one making pasta and I get to watch,’ Jasmine said, hiding her smile behind a sip of non-alcoholic wine.
‘That could be arranged.’ He grinned back at her.
His attentiveness continued throughout the meal. He topped up her mother’s and her glasses, ensuring they had seconds, enthusiastically participated in her mother’s stories. There was a genuine warmth in the way he interacted with Angela. It told Jasmine something: Emilio was a caretaker. Some of what she’d taken for highhandedness made a little more sense now. She felt herself thaw just a little more towards him.
The Emilio she’d seen recently had been him in crisis mode—her own fault, she thought guiltily. She’d been the one who’d begged him not to stop that night. Here—with dinner cleared away and his arm resting along the top of her chair—he was relaxed. The real him had come out. And she’d never been more sure that marrying him for the sake of their child was the right thing to do.
‘I like you, Emilio,’ Angela said finally, pulling Jasmine from her thoughts, ‘But I can’t advise my daughter to marry you.’
Jasmine had fully expected her mother to say that, but the tingle of disappointment she felt at the words was a surprise. She looked at Emilio for a reaction—anger, disappointment? But he just sat there patiently awaiting her mother’s judgement.
‘That said,’ Angela went on, ‘I trust my daughter’s judgement.’
‘Angela, I assure you, I will always take care of Jasmine.’ Emilio moved his arm, taking Jasmine’s hand in his own and placing them on the table. A show of intent.
Her mother noticed, and kept looking at their joined hands as she went on. ‘Having met you and spoken to you, that isn’t my concern. I’m sure that you will. But will you love her, and will she love you?’
‘Mom…’ Jasmine started but her mother cut her off.
‘I know it was difficult for us, Jasmine,’ Angela said kindly, ‘But you are not me.’
Jasmine opened her mouth, but Emilio beat her to it.
‘Angela, I’m aware that your daughter could successfully raise our child alone. But I want my child to grow in a home where their parents are always present for them. I won’t be a part-time father, nor will I abandon Jasmine or my child.’
Emilio’s words were gentle, but there was that look in his eyes again, the one that Jasmine couldn’t decipher. Was there another reason he was so adamant that they should marry? It was yet another question she would need an answer to. Not that the answer would affect her decision. They were getting married for their baby; she just needed some transparency.
Angela reached over the table and placed her hands on theirs. ‘You are both adults, so I can’t tell you what to do,’ she said, ‘And I greatly admire your integrity, Emilio. But just consider the type of love you both deserve and if you could live happily if you should never find it.’
‘I have considered that,’ Emilio replied.
Angela smiled, something sad in it. ‘Then, I guess…welcome to my family, Emilio.’
‘Thank you, Angela.’ He smiled.
Later, when he left, Jasmine walked him to her front door. He paused on her doorstep and turned to face her. ‘I’m willing to compromise.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘We can live here after the honeymoon. Until then, you will move into my home. My fiancée has to be seen living with me.’
Jasmine thought about it. It was a fair offer, really. Maybe when Emilio was in his own home she would see more of the man she’d seen tonight. A man who, it seemed, was capable of compromise. Of putting their baby’s and her comfort ahead of his own. A man who held so much power but was willing to hand some of it over to her. Who didn’t seem threatened by her making a long-term decision for them.
There was really only one right choice. ‘I accept.’
CHAPTER NINE
Jasmine stood bythe window of a guest room in Emilio’s penthouse while her mother did up the buttons on the back of her wedding dress. She glanced out at Central Park, a view she had woken up to for the past two weeks.
Emilio had helped her move in the morning after the dinner. She’d been surprised by how little she hated his home. Sure, a lot of it seemed impersonal. There was so much white here. White walls. White marble in the kitchen and bathrooms. But the décor was just right. The bedding in every room was perfect. His kitchen was a dream for any foodie—which, it turned out, he was. With all the light that poured in through the walls of windows, it all felt so airy. As if he’d invited the outside in.
That didn’t stop Jasmine noticing how little of himself he put on display. Apart from a singular frame on the mantelpiece holding a picture of a beautiful older woman who must be his mother, there was nothing of him in here. Not even in his bedroom, which she’d seen once, during the full tour he’d given that first evening. She knew he had a brother, but there was no evidence of the other De Luca heir in Emilio’s home. It was strange. If she had a sibling, she would at least have had a picture of them up.
The man himself was warm, charming, arrogant and the most infuriating person she had ever met, but his home was just a beautiful canvas. The only place that felt different was the rooftop terrace. Emilio had created an Eden in the middle of the city with trees, flowers and hedges. A pathway wound through it to a greenhouse filled with various plants. Jasmine found herself drawn there every evening, and looked forward to her new ritual of taking a cup of coffee and sitting in there where it was tranquil and beautiful.
And that was where she would be married today.