Page 7

7

Stella

A few minutes before seven, I hear the front door open and head downstairs wearing a pearl white silk cami, black slacks, a long, almond-colored cashmere cardigan, and heels. I pause halfway down when I see the man standing at the door — more specifically, what he’s holding. Saint offers him the signed, folded paperwork which he slips into the interior pocket of his charcoal suit jacket.

“Flowers? Really?” I huff at the sight of the pink and purple petals surrounded by greenery as I finish walking down the steps. A unique combination of pink roses, Oriental lilies, Gerbera daisies, white snapdragons, and lavender if I’m not mistaken.

Andre’s face is as stupidly handsome as usual, but he’s frowning with a touch of insecurity. I doubt the gorgeous attorney has any doubts about himself. “They’re for your mom,” he says.

“Oh.” So maybe I’m a tiny bit disappointed he didn’t bring me flowers, and I feel a little silly I made a wrong assumption. “She’ll love them.”

“Good,” Andre sighs.

“Before we go up, you’ll need to use some of the hand sanitizer and put on a mask.” I point toward the entry table where a tall bottle of the clear liquid sits next to a box of surgical masks. “I don’t know where you’ve been…”

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, trading me the flowers to reach for one of the masks. After it’s on, covering his mouth, nose, and most of his beard, he presses on the nozzle of the giant bottle to fill his palm with the gel. “Do you have any advice for how I’m supposed to play this?” he asks as he rubs in the sanitizer.

“Carefully.”

I offer him back the flower bouquet, then lead the way up the stairs to my mom’s room without another word. At the closed door, I do a double take over my shoulder at the man following me in his crisp suit and tie, the bouquet of flowers nearly crushed in his fist, and spot the dampness dotting his forehead. “Are you sweating?”

“Fuck,” he mutters. Pulling out a handkerchief from the front pocket of his suit jacket, he dabs at his forehead and the back of his neck.

“Did you run here from Manhattan?” I ask quietly with a grin. “Or are you actually nervous about meeting my mom?”

He whispers, “A little nervous. If she doesn’t like me or buy this…”

“Then you don’t get to fuck me.” I roll my eyes. I should’ve known his nervousness is centered around getting laid. “You go around killing men and doing shady mobster shit every single day, but you’re scared of a frail old lady cockblocking you?”

“I don’t go around killing men every single day,” he replies softly. “Can’t deny the shady shit, though.”

“Have you ever killed anyone?” I ask, though I doubt he’ll spill the bloody truth of his boss’s hits.

“Like I’d tell you if I had,” Andre huffs.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

I remind myself the man is a Ferraro, and there’s no low those men won’t sink to to get what they want.

I also need to remember that despite his handsome face and oddly endearing nervousness about meeting my mother, there’s still the possibility one of Andre’s cousins killed Izaiah and my father, and as the family’s second in command, he’d know all the dirty details.

There’s just one other question I’m curious about before we put on our act in front of my mother. “Why’d you put in the agreement that you’d back up my brother’s loan with a hundred million dollars if he defaults?”

“Because that’s all I had to offer.”

“That’s not…forget it.”

I lift my fist to knock on the door right before Andre says, “Wait.”

“What?” I huff impatiently, ready to get this fake shit over with.

“I just wanted to tell you that you look gorgeous tonight. You always do.”

Rolling my eyes at his wasted flattery, I give a swift, soft knock on the door to warn my mom we’re coming in before I open it. Then, I step inside the dimly lit room of my nightmares where every day I watch my mom slip a little further away from us.

“Mom? Mom ,” I say a little louder as we approach the side of the hospital bed. Usually, I would let her rest, but she’s been sleeping all afternoon, and I know she wouldn’t want to miss this meeting.

Finally, her eyes flutter open. Seeing me and the man next to me in the doorway, she struggles into a sitting position while quickly reaching up to smooth the back of her thinning hair with her palm. “Oh! You should’ve told me we had company so I could make myself presentable, Stella.”

“You look fine. Andre is the one who’s sweating like a whore in church,” I tell her, causing the man to tense up beside me.

“Stella!” Mom admonishes me, looking back and forth between me and my new fiancé.

“She’s not lying,” Andre surprisingly admits to her. Stepping around me, he heads for the side of the bed. Placing the flowers next to her on the mattress, he holds out his palm for her hand. “It’s good to see you again, Mrs. Rovina.”

“Oh, well, the pleasure is all mine. And thank you for the lovely flowers. Aren’t they just beautiful, Stella?” she says as she takes his hand. While still holding his palm, she loudly whispers to me, knowing he can hear her better than I can, “He is sweating like a whore in church.”

Andre snatches his hand back and wipes it on his pants leg. “Sorry, ma’am.”

My mom and I both snicker at his oddly adorable awkwardness.

“Nothing to be sorry about, handsome. I’m just glad to know you’re not as perfect as you look.”

The mobster glances from her over to me, his brows creased in confusion. While my mom picks up the bouquet to sniff the flowers, I explain, “We both think you’d be pretty if you didn’t look so grumpy all the time. Oh, and if you shaved off your beard.”

“Pretty?” Andre scoffs, arching an eyebrow in question as if surprised I’d admit such a thing.

“Yes, you’re pretty, and you know it. Aren’t I a lucky, lucky girl for being the one you decided to settle down with?”

“Your father was a lady’s man too,” my mom says, laying the flowers across her lap. Lifting a shaky hand, she points her finger up at Andre. “Don’t even think about batting those long eyelashes at anyone else once you’re married to my beautiful daughter.”

“I ‘d never do such a thing, not when your daughter is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Oh, he is laying it on thick tonight. It takes a great deal of restraint to not roll my eyes.

“You remember that, too, even when the years go by and those looks begin to fade while you just keep getting better looking.”

“Mom! Are you seriously telling my future husband I’m going to grow ugly in a few years?”

“You should cherish these years, Stella. That’s all I’m saying. And if he’s a good man, he won’t get a wandering eye when you have wrinkles around yours.”

“There’s nothing more important to me and my family than loyalty,” Andre tells my mother. He comes over and reaches for my hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I don’t pull away, since it’s an innocent enough touch that won’t lead anywhere.

And unfortunately, I know he’s telling the truth. Not that he’s saying he’ll be loyal to me, but that he’ll always be loyal to his family, to the Ferraros.

Despite my animosity toward the Ferraro family, when Andre laces our fingers together, I bite back my smile feeling the heat and the moisture of his skin against mine. “You’re really that stressed about losing one little fuck?” I tease him quietly, enjoying his discomfort more than I should.

“One big fuck,” he leans in and whispers against my ear before pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

My breath catches from his words, his closeness, the sweep of his thumb over my knuckles. All of the above. I have no doubt he’s not lying about his size either, since I saw a preview in his pants last night.

And I hate him for it, for having an effect on my body against my will, for wanting to see every naked inch of his muscular body.

I’m about to push him away, to rip my fingers from his sweaty ones, when Mom says, “So, I hear congratulations are in order. What’s the rush, though? Well, other than all the money Stella will save on batteries.”

“Mother!” The heat in my cheeks turns them red. I can’t believe she just said that. But then I see her eyes twinkling with humor and unshed tears. Happy tears.

Now I’m not sure if I’m relieved or feel guilty for lying to her about this stupid wedding.

“Well, you will, won’t you, sweetie?”

“We should go and let you get your rest.” I shake my head, not bothering to answer or inform her that most of my toys have rechargeable batteries nowadays.

“Aw, so soon? Andre just got here. There’s so much to discuss and tons of wedding plans to make so you two can get started on those beautiful babies.”

“You and I can work on wedding arrangements tomorrow with Cami. I’m sure Andre doesn’t care about what flowers we have or the color of bridesmaid dresses.”

“If I had to choose, I would pick cerulean, like the color of your eyes.”

“Not brown like yours?” I ask, leaving the insult about how he’s so full of shit unspoken.

“Blue and white would make for a beautiful winter wedding!” my mom chimes in, making me wince because I don’t want to give him this small win. “Stella loves winter. It’s her favorite season, but I’m sure you already know that…”

“We’ll discuss wedding colors tomorrow.” I already know I’ll cave for her on the colors if she insists on blue and white. “Get some rest, Mom.”

“It was nice seeing you again, Mrs. Rovina,” Andre says as I drag him toward the door by our clasped hands.

“Call me Martha or Mom!” she shouts after us.

As soon as I shut the bedroom door and finally extract my fingers from his, the jackass asks, “What did she mean about you saving money on batteries?”

“Nothing. She’s not all there thanks to the meds.”

“Her body may look frail, but her mind didn’t seem anything but strong and clear. So, tell me, Stella, why did she say you use so many batteries?”

“It’s nothing.” I stride past him and start down the stairs, intending to show him out the door now rather than endure an entire meal with him.

“The batteries wouldn’t be for…vibrating devices, would they?” he asks from behind me, causing my cheeks to heat even more.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I have a fine collection of personal massagers, ones that completely alleviate my need for a man. Or batteries since they’re all rechargeable.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“Believe it. My toys have never failed to satisfy me, unlike the assholes I used to date…”

“I’m not those assholes, baby,” he says, his words sending warmth to an entirely different place this time. “Trust me, I’ll never fail to satisfy you. Just say the word.”

An annoying shiver works its way down my spine at his promise.

“This conversation is over.” I head right to the front door, bypassing the guards there, and hold it wide open. “And you’re leaving.”

“What about dinner?”

“Not tonight, Romeo.”

“Well? How did I do?” Andre asks, refusing to take the final steps.

I shrug as if I’m not impressed by how well it went. “Fine, I guess.”

“She seemed convinced we’re the real deal, right?”

“I’ll see what she says when I talk to her alone later. She may have just been playing nice while you were still in the room.”

“Liar. She bought it. I can tell. She already loves me like a son.”

“How convenient since she recently lost one to unusual circumstances,” I remind him through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” he says softly, his amber eyes full of remorse either from the loss or his responsibility. “Who knows, maybe Izaiah will turn up, and we’ll find out he was just partying really hard with a few friends.”

“He’s dead,” I say, studying his face. “Everyone knows it, except for my mother, so keep your stupid ass theories to yourself.”

“Yes, ma’am. Goodnight, mia dolce vipera ,” he replies before he, thankfully, walks out the house so I can slam the door shut behind him.

Freaking Italian bastard with his silly ass term of endearment.