shall be in the dining room at precisely seven-fifty-five, ready and waiting.”
The old man chuckled. “Very good.” Turning on his heel, he left, closing the door behind him. Leaving the two of them alone in a gorgeously romantic room.
Nerves made her palms clammy, and she clutched her hands together, fighting the foolish sensation.
“Well, I’m sure you’d like a few hours to rest, shower, whatever you need to do before dinner.” She stepped away from him, needing some distance.
“Yeah, I feel kind of grimy. And I should probably change, try not to look so lawyer-like.” He flashed her a quick smile. It sent a zing to all her feminine parts, leaving her uncomfortably warm.
“Very well.” She sounded too formal and she wanted to roll her eyes. The man made her uncomfortable. “I’ll see you later at the main house?”
“Sure. I can just…walk in, right?”
“Of course. Don’t bother knocking. We’re the only ones in residence, besides my mother.” She frowned. If she was brave enough, she’d go straight into the house and knock on her mother’s door. Demand to be let in so they could hash this out. It was ridiculous, how secretive Mama was being.
Stasia deserved to know answers. But she wasn’t quite brave enough to ask for them.
Yet.
“We’ll work through this, Stasia,” Gavin said, his voice low and full of sympathy. She wondered if he could read her mind. “Don’t worry.”
She appreciated the words, but they were so easy for him to say. He had nothing to lose, nothing at risk. Though she’d already lost everything, maybe someday she could gain some of it back. At least a semblance of peace.
Hopefully.
Chapter Six
Dinner was an elaborate meal for only two people, Gavin mused. At least three different kinds of pasta, a giant bowl of fresh green salad dotted with vibrant red tomatoes from the garden and a basket of warm crusty bread, it was enough to feed a family of ten. Fortunately Gavin was ravenous enough for at least three men, and he ate with an intensity that shocked him.
Probably shocked Stasia as well, not that he could worry about it. He felt as if he hadn’t eaten all day…which, he realized, he hadn’t.
“Renzo’s wife is the cook,” Stasia said as he’d served himself a second plateful. “Elena is very good, no?”
Her Italian accent became more pronounced the longer she was here. “Very good,” he said after he swallowed. His belly might be protesting, but he wasn’t ready to stop.
She smiled, dropped her gaze to her still full plate, dragging her fork back and forth through the cream sauce. “And the shrimp is fresh from the ocean. Renzo picked them up from the market just this morning.”
“They’re delicious.” Plump and full of flavor, they were the best damn shrimp he’d ever tasted, and he’d eaten at plenty of fine restaurants in Manhattan.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal.” Clearly, she wasn’t.
He set his fork on the edge of the plate, didn’t say anything in hopes she would look back up and find him waiting.
She did, rather quickly. Her eyes widened the slightest bit and she pushed her plate away as if the meal disgusted her. “You want to talk.”
Stasia was rather perceptive, and he liked that. “I want to know what’s bothering you.”
Well, he could be perceptive too.
“I’m afraid.” She spoke in a broken whisper, the depth of emotion in her voice making his chest ache. “I think I might be wasting your time here.”
“I just had the best meal of my life. This was definitely not a waste of my time.”
She smiled, but it was weak at best and it didn’t mask her sadness. “I’ll let Elena know you approve.”
“Stasia. Stop.”
Her startled gaze met his, her damp, lush lips parted. “You’re angry.”
“I want to know what’s wrong with you. Why do you think being here is a waste of my time? We just arrived.”
“And my mother refuses to talk to me. I went to her suite of rooms before dinner
The old man chuckled. “Very good.” Turning on his heel, he left, closing the door behind him. Leaving the two of them alone in a gorgeously romantic room.
Nerves made her palms clammy, and she clutched her hands together, fighting the foolish sensation.
“Well, I’m sure you’d like a few hours to rest, shower, whatever you need to do before dinner.” She stepped away from him, needing some distance.
“Yeah, I feel kind of grimy. And I should probably change, try not to look so lawyer-like.” He flashed her a quick smile. It sent a zing to all her feminine parts, leaving her uncomfortably warm.
“Very well.” She sounded too formal and she wanted to roll her eyes. The man made her uncomfortable. “I’ll see you later at the main house?”
“Sure. I can just…walk in, right?”
“Of course. Don’t bother knocking. We’re the only ones in residence, besides my mother.” She frowned. If she was brave enough, she’d go straight into the house and knock on her mother’s door. Demand to be let in so they could hash this out. It was ridiculous, how secretive Mama was being.
Stasia deserved to know answers. But she wasn’t quite brave enough to ask for them.
Yet.
“We’ll work through this, Stasia,” Gavin said, his voice low and full of sympathy. She wondered if he could read her mind. “Don’t worry.”
She appreciated the words, but they were so easy for him to say. He had nothing to lose, nothing at risk. Though she’d already lost everything, maybe someday she could gain some of it back. At least a semblance of peace.
Hopefully.
Chapter Six
Dinner was an elaborate meal for only two people, Gavin mused. At least three different kinds of pasta, a giant bowl of fresh green salad dotted with vibrant red tomatoes from the garden and a basket of warm crusty bread, it was enough to feed a family of ten. Fortunately Gavin was ravenous enough for at least three men, and he ate with an intensity that shocked him.
Probably shocked Stasia as well, not that he could worry about it. He felt as if he hadn’t eaten all day…which, he realized, he hadn’t.
“Renzo’s wife is the cook,” Stasia said as he’d served himself a second plateful. “Elena is very good, no?”
Her Italian accent became more pronounced the longer she was here. “Very good,” he said after he swallowed. His belly might be protesting, but he wasn’t ready to stop.
She smiled, dropped her gaze to her still full plate, dragging her fork back and forth through the cream sauce. “And the shrimp is fresh from the ocean. Renzo picked them up from the market just this morning.”
“They’re delicious.” Plump and full of flavor, they were the best damn shrimp he’d ever tasted, and he’d eaten at plenty of fine restaurants in Manhattan.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying your meal.” Clearly, she wasn’t.
He set his fork on the edge of the plate, didn’t say anything in hopes she would look back up and find him waiting.
She did, rather quickly. Her eyes widened the slightest bit and she pushed her plate away as if the meal disgusted her. “You want to talk.”
Stasia was rather perceptive, and he liked that. “I want to know what’s bothering you.”
Well, he could be perceptive too.
“I’m afraid.” She spoke in a broken whisper, the depth of emotion in her voice making his chest ache. “I think I might be wasting your time here.”
“I just had the best meal of my life. This was definitely not a waste of my time.”
She smiled, but it was weak at best and it didn’t mask her sadness. “I’ll let Elena know you approve.”
“Stasia. Stop.”
Her startled gaze met his, her damp, lush lips parted. “You’re angry.”
“I want to know what’s wrong with you. Why do you think being here is a waste of my time? We just arrived.”
“And my mother refuses to talk to me. I went to her suite of rooms before dinner
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