“Thank you.” Lane mumbled the words without looking at Angelo. Taking her seat, she felt like slumping in relief. The tour of his home had made her feel like she was near her breaking point. Angelo’s place was even more palatial than she feared, and its elegance only made it even more intimidating. Everything was so beautifully understated, and she knew from what Nellie taught her that the subtler the décor was, the more expensive it usually was.
She tried not to be so obvious as she willed herself to breathe normally. You’re going to get used to this, she told herself. Christopoulos University wasn’t just bigger, it had thousands of rich people, too, but she had succeeded in acclimatizing herself to it.
She would be able to do the same here.
It was just a matter of time.
As someone started serving them salad, she couldn’t help stealing a look at Angelo.
He looked stiff and tense, and her heart cracked a little at the sight.
He probably thought she was some kind of psycho, the way she had blown hot and cold at him without reason.
And she couldn’t blame him, could she?
She started eating her salad mechanically, hoping to distract herself, but her worries only grew in proportion to the increasingly tense silence between them.
The second course was served, and again she tried stealing a look at him from behind the waiter—-
The expression on his face was forbidding, and she started to panic. He was going to change his mind after this. She was sure of it. He was going to make up some excuse and before she knew it, he would be gone from her life.
And it would be permanent this time if she didn’t do something about it.
She took a deep breath.
“W-why d-do y-you h-have s-so m-many s-security?”
That she spoke was a surprise, but it was the way the words stumbled out of her mouth that was even more surprising.
She sounded like she was being forced to speak to him, and he didn’t understand it at all.
Wondering if her trauma involved some kind of encounter with the authorities as well, he told her that the security was merely a precautionary measure.
“I s-see.” Lane tried not to sound so miserable. Weren’t house alarms enough precautionary measures for him? Was he so rich that he needed practically the entire police department living with him?
Oh. So she had heard him right earlier. He had told her about this in the car, and she had assumed that he meant he’d be throwing a party tomorrow. “Isn’t it a b-bit too late?”
“My parties usually start at ten.”
“R-really?”
Her shocked expression was comical, and he welcomed the sight. This was infinitely better than having her look at him like he was an axe murderer about to decapitate her at any moment.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never been to any frat party.”
She shook her head.
“Really.”
“R-really.” And this time she was able to smile, with the way he was looking at her like she had just admitted to him she was a living saint in disguise.
She watched him take out his phone. “I have a call to take.”
Her heart sank. “Right,” she said dully. It had started then, the excuses that would eventually turn into a necessity to kick her out of his home.
His gaze narrowed at her tone. “I’m not lying.”
“I didn’t say you were,” Lane muttered, heartbreak making her voice sharp and sheer disappointment making her fear of him somewhat fade. She knew she was being unfair to Angelo. He didn’t know what was wrong with her. He had every right to think she was a psycho to get rid of.
But—-
Couldn’t he be more patient?
Was she that easy to throw away?
“It’s my mother who’s calling.”
Sure it was, she thought.
Angelo expelled his breath in a frustrated hiss.
She found it insulting, like he was making it seem she was too much trouble, and she snapped, “Just take your fake call!”
“I told you—-”
“Your phone didn’t even ring, you dishonest—-”
“Because it’s on silent mode, you crazy woman!” And in a furious gesture, he showed his phone to her.
The first thing she saw was the caller’s photo and name flashing on the screen.
Madre.
That was...mother in Italian, wasn’t it?
Lane turned red.
Seeing it, he said silkily, “May I take the call now?”
She said in a small voice, “Sorry.” She looked up at him. “And I don’t blame you for thinking I’m an insane woman.” She paused, then said in the saddest tone he had ever heard, “I really am crazy, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that.”
Angelo couldn’t help it.
A laugh escaped him, but he abruptly swallowed the sound back. Fuck, he thought. Now, she’d probably fly in a rage—-
But when he looked at her, it was to see her staring at him like he was a knight in shining armor.
What the hell?
Lane was reeling.
Oh, that laugh.