Page 205 of The Italian Obsession

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling at his mother’s comment.

Bianca turns her attention to me. “How are you liking Italy, Olivia?”

“It’s beautiful.” I smile nervously.

“Yes. It is.” Her eyes hold mine for a moment. “Andrea tells me that you two met a few years ago.”

“Yes.” Oh, shit, his brother has been talking about me.

“And how did you end up back here?” she asks.

“I brought her here,” Enrico replies sharply.

My eyes flick to him in surprise. I didn’t expect him to tell anyone that.

Bianca raises an eyebrow. “Really?”

Enrico’s eyes hold hers and I get the feeling he doesn’t like her tone. “Yes, Mamma… really.”

Marcella returns with a tray of coffee. She puts them down on the table with a shaking hand as we all watch on. Poor girl, I feel sorry for her.

Enrico must, too, because he sits up and helps her put things onto the table. “Grazie, Marcella.” He smiles kindly.

She nods and disappears again as Enrico pours everyone a cup of coffee. He passes them to us.

“Where are you living?” Bianca asks.

“With me,” Enrico says as he sips his coffee. “We have moved into my Lake Como house.”

Bianca’s face falls as she looks between us, and a frown crosses her brow.

“Yes, Mamma,” Enrico says flatly. “That’s right.”

What does yes, Mamma mean? Did I miss part of the conversation? I look between them in confusion.

Bianca drops her head and clasps her hands on her lap. “I see.” Her back is ramrod straight and I don’t know why, but I get the feeling she isn’t happy about something.

“Olivia will be converting to Catholic this week,” Enrico says. “I have everything lined up with Father Delpini already.”

Huh?

This is news.

He seems to be putting out some kind of fire with her, one that I don’t even know about.

I think back to the conditions he laid out for us to get back together and I vaguely remember something about being Catholic.

I begin to perspire.

“Francesca, portala dentro.” Translation: Take her inside. Enrico says this with his eyes locked on his mother’s. I get the feeling that if I wasn’t here, it would be all guns blazing.

“Do you want to come and see my bedroom, Olivia?” Francesca asks softly.

I look over at her in surprise; I forgot she was even here. “Yes.” Anything to get me out of here. “That would be lovely.”

She stands, holds her hand out for me, and I take it gratefully.

She leads me into the house with my heart pumping fast. Once through the doors, I peer through the window to see the two of them still glaring at each other.