“She’ll rip him to shreds if she finds out he’s already engaged to someone else. The fact that she’s six thousand miles away won’t make any difference.”
“Even without knowing that, she doesn’t trust him.”
“Do you miss anything?”
“When I’m interested in the subject matter? No.”
The truth was that her parents had never warmed up to Matteo. Sam sighed, another knot unraveling in her mind.
Had that been Matteo’s appeal—that her parents thoroughly disapproved of him? Was that why she hadn’t broken up for years after she realized they weren’t romantically compatible?
Her dad liked reliability and steadfastness, which made sense as he was the most dependable guy ever. Her mom thought everyone—except Sam herself, duh—should make a mark in the world with whatever abilities they had.
Matteo had possessed none of the qualities her parents wanted in a partner for their precious daughter. As if there were queues of men lining up to date someone with her history.
But Matteo had made her laugh, had made her feel like a normal girl, had given her hope. He’d been exactly what she’d needed at eighteen, having known nothing of a normal adolescence. Her friends and cousins had moved on—to colleges and new lives and new loves. She’d been too old to go back and finish high school and hadn’t had enough credits to go to college, even if she could convince her mom.
She’d felt so isolated and lonely and lost.
She’d survived multiple surgeries, made it through periods of painfully slow recovery, but she’d never learned what it was to live. What to do with her time. How to connect with people.
Until Matteo had walked into the hospital café and flirted so outrageously with her that she’d spent her entire afternoon with him. He’d been the bridge that had pulled her back into her own life. He’d been her hero when she’d desperately needed one. For that alone, she’d always care for him.
She hoped that he’d cherished her friendship too, and not just as a silly diversion to build up his own ego. She needed him to understand that he’d hurt her, yes, but she could forgive him. That she still wanted him in her life.
Which made her insistent attraction to the man studying her so much worse.
“Which part did they not like?” Mr. Ricci asked, with the tenacity of a pit bull.
“Digging for dirt on Matteo is a little beneath you, don’t you think?” She scoffed. “Remind me to never introduce you to my parents. Mom especially.” There was no doubt in her mind that Alessandro would win them over in a second. Despite the cold remoteness, he was a natural leader, a protector.
“Why not?”
“You and she have too much in common,” she said, eyeing him greedily. If she introduced him as her lover, though… Mom would blow her top. The idea sent bubbles of delight through Sam.
“You are an infuriating puzzle made of innocence and strength, Ms. Fischer.” His gaze swept over as if he wanted to peel away the surface to see how she was put together. “As your parents, maybe they only see the first.”
“But they should know better,” she retorted, frustration coiling through her. Even as she was amazed that he saw through to what grated on her so easily. How had he gotten so close to her in three days? What dark magic did he wield? “When life hits you with hard things and you endure them, it makes you tough, ready for things you haven’t experienced yet. They expect me to be brave in one thing and then try to shield me from reality in everything else. It doesn’t work like that. I can’t stay still so that they can feel better.”
“Why are they so protective of you?”
He’d drilled down through all of that to come to the one question she didn’t want to answer. His gaze stayed on her, waiting.
Sam breathed hard, wondering why she didn’t want to tell him the truth. Why it mattered so much that he see her differently than everyone else in her life.
It was foolish. He’d find out sooner or later. She wasn’t going to be in his life for long, and anyway she wasn’t ashamed. She was a survivor.
But if she told him she’d had multiple heart surgeries by the time she turned eighteen, that she’d spent most of her teens in and out of hospitals, that she’d need medication and frequent checkups for the rest of her life, he’d look at her differently.
He’d treat her like everyone else did. As if she were fragile and needed looking after. As if her mind were also slow, not just her body. As if she were less than a normal person.
Her cousins, to this day, acted wary around her. Tiptoed around their accomplishments as if she couldn’t bear to hear them. Were condescending toward her—out of love, yes, but God, it was still infuriating.
Alessandro Ricci, on the other hand, had pushed her when she’d been ready to fall apart. Had made her angry to stop her tears. He’d challenged her notions about herself until she’d no choice but to go toe-to-toe with him.
Would he still talk to her like that if he knew? Or would he pity her too? Would he give her a different version of him—a softer, fake version?
“Ms. Fischer, come back to me.”
