“He makes up for it with his good looks,” I sniff, brushing my hair from my face. I imagine I look a mess from the way they’re looking at me. “You guys should go ahead. I’ll just take a nap and…" My voice trails off when I spot the cosmetic bag on Gabriella's lap, but she’s not the only one carrying something. My mother is holding some kind of garment bag that has my brows furrowing in confusion. “What’s that?”
“Your dress,” Gabriella answers instead. “You’re going out for dinner!”
“What?” I shake my head, trying to lower myself back on the bed, but she grips my arm and yanks me back up. “I’m not in the mood to go out. Today’s my day off, and I plan to spend it in bed.”
“Not on my watch,” Gabriella says, nudging me off the bed. I nearly fall off. “Go take a shower and then we’ll get you dolled up. You’re going out. You need this.”
“Hey, I just had my heart broken. Let me sulk a little,” I say with a pout, but she’s already pushing me away, leaving me no choice but to listen. Somehow, I get bullied into taking a shower but decide on a bath to help with the soreness after our lovemaking in the library. I try not to think about him and stall in the tub until Gabriella threatens to kick down the door.
Thirty minutes later, I find myself seated on the bed in a tight little blue dress as my mother and Gabriella fuss with my hair and face. I let them do whatever they want, uncertain they would stop if I asked them to. After they’re done, they both move back and take me in, humming and complimenting each other for a job well done.
“Where are we going?” I ask Gabriella when I notice she’s not dressed up. She’s dressed way too casually in jeans and a T-shirt, and her dark curls fall around her face in a charming but unkempt way. “Can I wait in bed while you get ready?”
"And ruin all the hard work we put in the last forty minutes? Nope,” she says, taking my hand and pulling me to my feet. “Let’s go.”
“Where?” I cry out as she shoves my purse into my hands, and I find myself shuffled out of the guest room. All my questions and protests are ignored as they whisk me downstairs and into a car waiting at the front door. I turn just as the door slams in my face, and Gabriella’s cheeky face grins at me from the narrow window beside the door. I try to open the door, but it’s locked, so I turn to the driver, sighing when I see it’s Luca.
“What the hell are you guys up to?”
“Tsk, you and that suspicious mind of yours,” he says as the car starts pulling away. I turn to the window to watch my mother and Gabriella grinning as they wave me off, obviously having come back outside when I was being ushered into the car by Luca.
For a moment, I think I might’ve gone insane. Just yesterday, everyone was all up in my face telling me I wasn’t allowed to leave the estate because of some crazy shooter out there, and now what? That isn’t a concern anymore?
“Luca, if you don’t tell me where we’re going, I swear to God, I’ll jump out of this car,” I threaten my twin, but he doesn’t seem one bit fazed by it.
“It’s a surprise,” he says.
“Why? It’s not even my birthday,” I cry out, flopping back to the seat and folding my arms over my chest. “All I wanted was to read a book and sleep in on my day off.”
“Can you just relax and enjoy the ride? Enjoy the scenery. New York is a dream in the evening, don’t you think?”
I sigh and drop my forehead against the window, staring out at the scenery, more glass and concrete than there is space. I don’t engage my brother anymore as my mind shifts back to Antonio, despite my best effort not to. A part of me wonders if this is Antonio’s way of getting me out of the house, so he has some space from me. If so, why would he go through all the trouble when he could just send me home to my apartment or have me stay at Luca's?
Did he really have to go to these lengths to get me away?
My heart breaks a little more, and I get lost in my head, not realizing we’ve stopped until Luca taps my knee. “What?” I ask, blinking up at him.
“We’re here,” he says, brows furrowed with concern as he nods toward the window. I follow his line of sight, and my heart tugs when I see we’ve stopped outside my favorite Italian restaurant. It's owned by one of Leonardo's cousins, and I remember him bringing me along with his family to this place whenever they went out. Heck, he brought my family here to celebrate completing medical school, and we had a wonderful time despite the place always being packed and busy.
But tonight, it looks…empty?
Luca steps out of the car and rounds it, coming to my side to open the door for me. He helps me out and escorts me to the door. “Go in,” he says.
I blink at my twin in confusion, looking around to make sure there aren't cameras and this isn't a prank, but Luca was never one for games. Not even when we were kids. Always too serious for his age, which makes this moment all the more confusing. "What's going on?"
He laughs and shakes his head. “Just go in,” he says, opening the door and nudging me inside. I toss him a glare before doing as he says. The bells above the door chime as I step inside and then my breath catches in my throat.
Empty tables, draped in pristine white cloth, stand like sentinels. A shudder runs down my spine as my eyes dart around, taking in the soft lighting that bathes the room in a warm, inviting glow and the flowers arranged around what is usually a busy restaurant. My gaze stops on the single table at the center of the room with a stunning arrangement of sunflowers that is a riot of color against the white tablecloth.
And then my eyes finally settle on him.
Antonio is standing by the table with a smile playing on his lips and another bouquet of sunflowers clutched in his hand. My heart skips a beat as I take him in too, dressed in a black suit that fits him perfectly and highlights all those delicious muscles I love to stare at.
“They’re your favorite, right?” he says, breaking the silence between us as he lifts the bouquet. “I asked Silvia and Luca, and they both said that you love sunflowers.”
I fold my arms over my chest, more to physically restrain myself from running to him than for comfort. I don’t want to forgive him for how he acted this afternoon, and I’m afraid to hope. To believe that this man would ever see me the way I’ve seen him all my life.
“You spoke to my mother and brother,” I say, taking a step back when he takes one forward. I try not to feel bad when he flinches at my move. “Why?”
