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My lunch with Catherine last week helped put a few things into perspective. Lusting after a man I know nothing about and met once eleven years ago isn’t the wisest decision, and I can’t waste my entire life hoping he’ll turn up again. So I need to be more active in tracking him down myself in order to get exactly what I want.

He might be the man of my dreams.

Or he might be awful.

Either way, once I know for sure, I’ll be able to move on with my life.

I know which one I’ll prefer.

“Are you alright, dear?” Bianca’s hand rests on my knee, brushing away invisible lint from the sleek silk skirt of my dress.

I flash her a smile and breathe deeply while pressing one hand against the lace bodice that presses my breasts up to my chin and leaves little room for anything more than shallow breaths. The things we do for beauty.

“I’m fine, Mom,” I assure her, patting the back of her hand. “I’m just a little hot.”

“We’ll be there soon.” She smiles wildly at me, patting my knee then sitting back next to my father.

“I don’t need to say it,” Enzo says, fixing me with a flat stare. “You need to be on your best behavior.”

“When am I anything but?” I ask, frowning slightly.

“You can’t mess this up for me, Jasmine. No matter what silly feelings you might have, this deal is important to me and the future of this family. And we’ll be under Mancini hospitality, so please, make me proud.”

The urge to snap at him rises. I’m not the problem here. If anything, he should be more worried about my floaty mother saying something inappropriate or his own inability to remain calm when faced with the Gattis, who are sure to make an appearance tonight. But no, instead it’s me and my impending engagement that’s the issue.

“Yes, Father,” I reply to save an argument. “I’ll be on my best behavior. Don’t worry.”

“You better be.” The warning is clear in his tone, and he returns to his phone, brows dipped and mouth in a straight, firm line.

“Don’t worry, dear.” Bianca pats my knee again. “You’re going to have a lovely time.”

I doubt that very much. Seeking a distraction, I turn to the one topic I should stay away from, yet it’s the one topic that calms me like no other. “Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“You remember the day I was rescued?”

Her face falls. “Of course I do.”

“And the man that rescued me?—”

“How many more times? I know nothing about him. He was a nobody. A mercenary or a hitman or something. It’s not important.”

“It’s important to me.”

“But why? It was over a decade ago. The entire world has moved on and you should too.”

“Has it?” I snap with more heat in my words than my mother deserves. “Because I’m about to become engaged to a manbecauseof what happened all those years ago. Maybe you should tell Dad to move on instead.”

“Well, that’s different,” she replies in a low voice. “Your father isn’t obsessed?—”

“Isn’t he?” I glance at him, but he’s utterly engrossed in a phone call that makes him slide to the other end of the limo. “Because it looks like these decisions are being made for me because he can’t forget what happened. So why should I?”

Bianca’s mouth opens and closes, but she has no reply. Our eyes lock, and for a few minutes, she looks distraught, but it fades quickly as she manages to push everything aside like she always does. “You look so beautiful, dear.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

What I would give for that man to appear right now and whisk me away.