Page 62 of The Plus One Pact

"Or start the business," he says.

"Caro mio, why always on the business? It's a childhood dream. Not all of those need to be fulfilled," she says.

A fire fills his eyes, but he doesn't object. "I can show you the business plan. It's all—"

"You know it's all Greek to me. But maybe… maybe I'll put the money in a trust early, and you can use it for whatever business you want. If the wedding goes well," she says.

Maybe, she'll give him his inheritance early, if I sell this ruse all week.

So, it's not just his business with his brother. Or his brother's wedding. Or his family's respect.

It's half the profits from selling this enormous house, too.

Well, this enormous house minus a villa in Italy. But that's got to be a big number.

Fuck.

So much is riding on us, on me.

I'm not sure I can do this.

I take another sip of limoncello. Then another. Then the drink is gone. "Would it be terrible to ask for another?"

Amara smiles, back to full throated charm. "So American to want a second helping of dessert." She looks to Romeo. "Latin American and U.S. American." She motions for him to fetch a second round.

He does.

Which leaves us alone in the big, empty room.

"This is a beautiful house," I say.

"Is that really how you met?" she asks. "At this divorce party?"

I nod.

"Did he feed you one of those ridiculous lines?" she asks. "You know he hit on one of my friends that way. Not quite my age, thank goodness, though it's not quite as unusual where I come from. Women don't disappear the day they turn forty the way they do here. Still…" She shakes her head, lost in her own world. "It's not what you want to hear from your friend. 'I think your son tried to get me into bed.'"

Was he trolling for clients? Or maybe that's what he does in his free time. Maybe he likes older women.

It's really none of my business.

"I think it was line," I admit. "But it didn't sound ridiculous. But then, again, he's very handsome, so I'm not sure how much I was listening."

She laughs. "He takes after his father, yes."

Romeo returns with the bottle of limoncello. He tops off their glasses and refills mine.

"Your girlfriend was telling me what a ridiculous line you used to get her into bed," Amara says.

"Really? Is, 'baby, are you a WiFi signal, because I'm feeling a strong connection' a bad line now?" He teases her.

She mutters something in Italian. "You're lucky you look like your father."

"He looks like you too," I say.

"His father's height though," she says. "Thank goodness. Women are obsessed with tall men here."

"Mama, how can you talk? Dad was six-foot two," Romeo says.