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It didn’t work.

“I won’t let my daughter be used,” Barb said, poking a finger in Gio’s chest.

Gio ignored Barb’s actions but stopped smiling. “We aren’t using your daughter, we love her.”

“If anyone used her, it was you,” Carter snapped.

“We’re her family,” James barked. “Not two men taking advantage of a naive girl.”

“You’ve grossly misinterpreted this situation,” Gio said. “You’re seeing malfeasance where there isn’t any. Perhaps it’s a guilty conscience driving you to that conclusion?”

“Let's all go into the kitchen,” Mila said, unable to handle the growing tension. She was especially worried about how pale and unsteady her father looked. He was trying to stand tall and look strong, but he was wavering a little on his feet.

Carter turned her to face him. “We can make them leave. You’ll never have to see them again.”

“They’re my parents,” Mila said, wishing she could take Carter up on his offer.

“They are welcome to stay and speak with us, but they will be civil,” Gio said, his tone cold and formal. His normal slight Italian accent was gone. Now he sounded like a disapproving British royal. She was really glad he’d never used that tone with her!

“This way,” Mila said, eager to get her dad off his feet. She rushed ahead of them and pulled out one of the kitchen table chairs.

James collapsed into a chair the moment he was close. Barb remained standing. Crossing her arms, she stood next to James’s chair as if ready to defend him from Gio or Carter.

Gio sat at the table across from James and Barb. Mila was too agitated to sit down so she busied herself putting on a pot of coffee and arranging pastries on a plate.

“I can’t believe you found me! You guys should've called, I could’ve picked you up from the airport. Did Anthony tell you about the business?” she asked, trying to pretend this was a friendly visit.

“Yes,” Barb answered. “I don’t understand why you didn’t tell us. We thought you were still a private chef.”

“I sorta do the cooking too,” Mila said.

“Mila spoils us with all these amazing home-cooked meals. She’s so talented,” Carter said, giving her a loving look.

“I’m not that good,” Mila said, bringing the plate of pastries over.

Carter picked up one of the pastries. “You’re brilliant. Especially with dessert!” he looked at Barb. “Mila’s Sweets hasn’t been open long, but she already has a loyal following.”

James looked at the plate with disapproval. “I can’t believe you’re making all this. How much of it are you eating? At least you weren’t allowed to eat the product at the North End Bakery.”

Mila winced. She might’ve put on a few pounds since she started living with Gio and Carter. Maybe she should start taking longer walks with Babette. Self-consciously, Mila hurried back into the kitchen to hide behind the island.

“What are you implying?” Gio asked. There was a distinct bite in his tone that James completely missed.

“Mila needs to lose weight. She’s always been heavy, but I can see being here and opening a pastry business isn’t helping,” James answered, keeping his eyes on Mila.

She refused to meet his gaze.

“You will not say anything like that again,” Gio said. “If I hear a single disparaging word about Mila from either of you, I’ll toss you out in the street.”

Mila looked up, but Gio hadn’t moved or changed expression. The room suddenly felt cold, despite all the heat she’d created by using the stovetop and oven all afternoon.

“Then we’ll call the police on you,” Barb half shouted.

Carter sounded a derisive snort. “And we’ll tell them you two are trespassing.” He looked at Gio. “Please, can we toss them out now?”

Gio shook his head. “We need to let Mila try to talk to them. However, if there’s another insulting comment, they know the consequences."

“I never insult my daughter,” James snarled. “The truth isn’t—”