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Check on Mamma first.
I grab a pair of chinos and a sweater. After getting dressed, I stop in the bathroom to get my Glock, and as I tuck it behind my back into the waistband of my pants, I leave my bedroom.
The mansion is quiet when I take the stairs down to the first floor, but nearing Mamma’s sitting room, I hear Gabriella say, “The dresses are so pretty.”
“Bridgerton is my favorite show,” Aunt Greta murmurs.
Just as I’m about to enter the sitting room, Mamma says, “Describe the dresses to me, Gabriella.”
“They have really high waistlines. They’re elegant, and all the colors are pastel. Some have flowers printed on the fabric. They kind of remind me of the outfits they wore in Pride and Prejudice.”
“I saw that movie,” Mamma mentions. “Good, now I have an idea of what everything looks like.”
“Aida hasn’t always been blind,” Aunt Greta says, and it has me stalking into the sitting room.
Gabriella startles, and Aunt Greta’s eyes fly to me. I head straight for my mother, a smile already forming on her face.
She’s always been able to feel whenever I’m close by.
“You’re home,” she murmurs, reaching out in my direction.
Taking hold of Mamma’s outstretched hand, I help her to her feet, and without bothering to greet the other two women, I lead her out of the sitting room.
Mamma doesn’t talk as we walk to the other side of the mansion where the sunroom is. I don’t switch on the lights as I take her to one of the plush sofas.
The room is filled with indoor plants, and the glass ceiling allows moonlight to shine into the space.
Once we’re seated, I lean back against the sofa and close my eyes.
Mamma leans against my side, then whispers, “Are you tired, mio figlio?”
Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly. “Yes.”
“You work too hard.”
“If I stop, it will leave the family vulnerable,” I mutter as I lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulders.
There’s a minute’s silence then she says, “I’m proud of you, Damiano.”
“Thank you, Mamma.”
She pats my thigh, then mentions, “Gabriella seems nice.”
“Mmh.”
“We’ve spent a lot of time with her the past week.”
“Mmh.”
“She made dinner tonight. Coda alla vaccinara,” she mentions. “There are leftovers in the kitchen. You should have some. It’s really good.”
“Mmh.”
I let out a sigh because I know where Mamma is going with this conversation.
“Don’t sigh at me,” she mutters. “Dario’s still young, whereas you need to settle down or I’ll never get to see my grandchildren.”
I force my tone to sound calmer than I feel as I say, “Don’t, Mamma. I got the woman for Dario. End of story.”
