Dante’s look in his direction can only be described as withering, but he leans in to kiss Lucia on both cheeks. “Grazie, signora. Your home is beautiful.”
She waves him off, and I stiffen as she moves to me. She eyes me with intent – as if I’m being judged.
And then she smiles. “Benvenuto, Caterina Corvo. My son speaks of you…often.”
Luc groans behind her at the teasing words, and I grin back at her as she turns back to Dante. To Alessia in his arms.
Lucia Morelli’s smile grows. “And you,piccola, you must be Alessia. You and I are to be excellent friends, I hear.”
Alessia takes her offered finger, waving it around. Lucia turns back to me, linking our arms together. She snaps her fingers at Luc, waving him away.
“Coffee, Luciano. I brought Alonso back with me, he’ll get my bags. You will gift your mother a conversation before you run away and leave me. Take the charming one with you.”
Both Dante and Luc start. I eye them, but they wither under Lucia’s expectant look, disappearing into the kitchen.
Nothing sends the fear of God into the men of the Cosa Nostra quite like their mothers.
I brace, but she only squeezes my hand. “It is hard, to leave a child behind.”
Straight to the point. “I—,”
“She will be here,” Lucia says gently. “Whenever you are ready, and it is safe. The staff will very much enjoy spoiling her, as will I. As anipotina. It has been a long time since we had children in the house.”
Littlest granddaughter.
My eyes start to burn, and she pats my cheek. “My Luciano has a big heart, Caterina Corvo. Do not break it.”
There’s steel there beneath her words, and I shake my head. “Never.”
The others appear behind us as we enter the kitchen, and Luc introduces them to an impassive Lucia. There’s amusement there as she inspects them. “Quite a collection of friends you have, Luciano. And all very handsome.”
She winks at me as every single one of them flushes crimson. “Lucky girl.”
There’s no judgment on our unusual set-up. Despite demanding that Luc make coffee, Lucia pushes him into a chair and efficiently seizes control of the kitchen, tossing dozens of questions at us and somehow pulling together endless plates of food along the way. Alessia chews on a soft oatmeal cookie in Stefan’s arms, and Lucia cocks her head.
“You. You are quiet, no?”
He pales.
Her voice softens. “You will introduce me to your mamma after lunch. Sì?”
“Sì– of course.Grazie,sig- uh, Lucia.”
She nods, satisfied. I glance around.
None of us have a mother like this. Perhaps Gio did, once, and Stefan, with Iliana. Dom lost his parents as a child, Bea steppingin to fill the role. I never knew my mother. Dante doesn’t remember his.
I wonder if she knows that, as she fills our plates with food and drags personal information about our likes and dislikes from us without batting an eye. Perhaps she knew them, or some. Something tells me she did, and Lucia Morelli has decided to take us under her wing.
Starting with food.
As we get up to finalise our leaving arrangements, she’s already packing food into containers as Stefan lingers uncertainly, muttering aboutairplane foodandpoison.
Luc stops Dante and I on the stairs. “Are you comfortable? Leaving Alessia here?”
Dante looks to me. “It’s your decision.”
“I am. Your mother is a force of nature,” I admit. “I like her, Luc.”
