Secret Italian Prince's Baby

"She's not from our world," his mother said.

My stomach was tying itself into knots. I didn't want to be here.

But whether or not I wanted anything to eat, an obsequious waiter brought over menus. I ordered a chicken sandwich. Our food came within five minutes. I picked at my sandwich, my appetite lost. Massimo and his mom were discussing implementing new taxes.

What was I doing here? I didn't fit in with two people discussing major changes to public policy. It was so far removed from my world that it was absurd for me to be here, pinching pieces of bread off of my sandwich.

It ended when her phone buzzed. "Excuse me," she said as she walked away. "I'll only be a moment."

Massimo looked at me. "I'm sorry," he said.

"We'll talk about it later," I replied.

His mother was on the phone for only a minute. "Massimo, I need to go."

A wave of cool relief swept over my body. She kissed his cheeks, gave me a cold, regal nod, and left us sitting there.

"Do you want your sandwich?" Massimo asked.

"No."

Massimo reached for my hand as he flagged a waiter down. As soon as his mother was gone, I sprinted for the exit. I knew that Massimo was going to take care of the bill and I needed to be somewhere semi-private before I freaked out.

I sat in the limo, waiting for Massimo to arrive. I was taking deep breaths so that I wouldn't cry and staring at the ceiling while blinking. I didn't want any tears to fall.

Finally, the car door opened. Massimo walked in. "You did well tonight," he said. "I know my mother isn't the nicest person in the world, but you did well." He leaned in to kiss my cheek. "Thank you."

I was paralyzed and speechless. I normally loved Massimo's sweet kisses, but I knew that I could not spend more time with a lady who had no problem putting me down and criticizing everything about me. If I stayed with Massimo, she'd be in my life forever. She was his mother. Family was definitely more important than a girlfriend, especially one who was just a commoner and an American at that. I felt as if there were a living knot behind my breastbone, dark and made of barbed wire. I couldn't breathe properly. I felt like I couldn't get enough air.

"You okay?" Massimo asked, his hand turning my face so he could get a good look at me. That was when the first tear fell.

"You're crying," he said, his voice full of horror and surprise.

"Yes," I whispered, ashamed that I finally broke.

"What's wrong?" Massimo asked me. He kissed the trail of my tears as they ran down my cheeks. It was as if by finally letting them fall, a river was starting to roar.

"I think we should take a break," I said in a low voice. "Maybe we should talk in a week."

"Why can't we talk now?" Massimo asked. "I'm here. You're here. I don't like seeing you cry, cara."

His kindness and concern made me cry harder. The barbed wire tightened around my heart.

"I don't want to," I whispered. "Please just give me a break for a week. We can have dinner next Friday, just you and me, okay?"

"I have a gala I need to go to," Massimo said. "It's one of my mother's charity events. Saturday?"

"Are you going alone to the gala?" I asked. I already knew the answer. I could feel my hot tears spilling down as my vision became blurry.

Massimo seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "My mother has a friend from her school days whose daughter is only two years younger than me."

"Right," I said, trying to swallow past the enormous lump in my throat. "Of course." Why would I ever expect anything different? I was a commoner and a little fling. In real life, he had to marry someone from his own social circle, someone with a really long name and a whole bunch of titles. I was just a random entrepreneur who was born in Camden, New Jersey and was fighting my way up. There was no room in his real life for me. I wasn't one of the glitterati. The cost of an evening gown for the gala next week represented a big chunk of my annual income and a tiny drop in the ocean for them.

"My assistant sent the invitation months ago, before I ever met you. If I could take you, I would."

"Sure," I said. I would fit in so well.

"You sound unhappy," Massimo said.