He hopped off when we entered and came right over to pull me into his arms. “There she is. I was wondering if you were going to chicken out on us. I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I,” I lied, though I had to admit I was happy that he was being more welcoming than his mother. It made me feel like I had two allies by my side instead of just the one.
Mrs. Ricci dropped my lasagna on the counter with such a clatter that it had me waiting for the sound of breaking glass to come next. When it didn’t, I breathed a silent sigh of relief. I really didn’t want to start out the evening by mopping meat sauce and pasta from the woman’s kitchen.
Aldo met Marco’s eyes above my head, exchanging a knowing look with him before he cleared his throat and grinned down at me. “What would you like to drink?”
“We’ll have Grappa.” Marco didn’t hesitate at all. “The big glasses.”
His firm hand pressed against my back, indicating that he wanted me to move. He steered me into a dining room, pulled out my chair for me, and took the seat next to me.
Grace—because I’d decided I would call her by her name in my head and there was nothing she could do to stop me—watched us with eyes as sharp as a hawk’s. She lowered herself into the seat directly across from me, folded her arms on the table, and stared at me unwaveringly.
“So you’re the American who has stolen my son’s heart and wormed her way into his company.”
My eyes went wide, but Marco intervened in a much sharper tone than I’d have expected. “Mother, she’s a guest in our home.”
“Yes. Yes.” She flicked a hand in his direction, but her eyes didn’t move away from mine. “How did you convince Marco to give you a job?”
He tensed beside me and opened his mouth, but I reached for his leg under the table and gave it a squeeze.
“No, don’t. It’s okay,” I said to him, then turned back to her. “I didn’t convince him of anything, Mrs. Ricci. I was as surprised as anyone when he offered me the job, but the interview I did went well and he decided to take a chance on me.”
“Where are you from?” She fired off her next question as if she hadn’t heard my answer, but I could practically see her filing the information away in her brain.
“Portland, Oregon.”
She tapped a nail against the table. “Hippies live there.”
It wasn’t a question, but I replied anyway. “There are some, yes.”
“Are you a hippie?” A pointed glance at my dress. “You look like you could be a hippie. A global logistics company is no place for a hippie, and neither is my son’s bed.”
I felt heat creeping from my chest, bleeding up my neck and into my cheeks. “I think I’ve been doing well at my job, ma’am.”
“She has been,” Marco interjected. “Addy is doing an excellent job. The clients love her.”
“Shame.” Mrs. Ricci brought her gaze back to mine, but before she could continue with her interrogation, Aldo came in with the drinks.
“Here you go,” he said happily, but then he caught my eye and blanched. “What have I missed?”
“Mama being rude to her guest,” Marco replied, giving his brother a cutting look that spoke volumes about his feelings toward him at this point. He accepted our drinks, sighed as he handed mine over, and then knocked his back. “I need another one.”
Aldo jerked his head in a nod and took the glass from him before heading back to the kitchen. Mrs. Ricci, meanwhile, arched an eyebrow at me. “You’ve gotten between my boys. No one gets between my boys.”
“She hasn’t gotten between us,” Marco argued. “I’m annoyed with Aldo. It’s got nothing to do with her.”
“On the contrary.” She sniffed derisively. “You two are at odds because your brother was truthful with me about her.”
“I’ve already told you I would have introduced her to you when the time was right.” He slung his arm on the back of my chair, his fingers stroking my shoulder with a featherlight touch. “Now I’m probably going to have to pay for trauma counseling for a new employee.”
“You can afford it,” she shot at him before her attention came back to me. “If she couldn’t take the heat, she should have stayed out of the kitchen.”
I was shocked by how blatantly rude the woman was being, but I kept my cool. Marco had warned me and I’d come prepared. I’d actually expected a lot worse than this. The night was still young, though. There was time for it to get to where I had expected it to go.
“I’m fine,” I whispered to Marco, but I knew she’d heard me. If not heard the words, she definitely saw me saying something to him. “Is there anything else you’d like to know?”
“We’re just getting started here,” she assured me as she lifted herself out of her chair. “Let me bring out the food before we continue our chat.”
Marco turned his entire body to face me as soon as she was out of the room. He lowered his forehead to mine, bringing up a large hand to cup the side of my neck. “I’m sorry. I promise you she’s not usually like this.”
“I must bring out the best in her,” I teased but jerked away from him when I heard her footsteps already approaching.
Aldo carried in Marco’s fresh drink, as well as a salad. Mrs. Ricci brought in a lasagna, but it wasn’t mine. She smirked at me, but I kept quiet.
Fine. If she wanted to dump the whole dish in the trash, then so be it. I hoped she would at least donate it instead of just chucking it, but it wasn’t like I could tell her that.
Mrs. Ricci fixed plates for
