The Italian

“So, that’s your magnet?” she asks.

I frown, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

“When you meet someone, they have a magnet that attracts you to them. Everyone has a magnet. Some are stronger than others.”

I stare at her, fascinated by her theory. “What’s your magnet to me? What attracted you to me?” I ask.

She chuckles. “Funnily enough, my magnet to you is the exact reason that we can’t be together.”

“Such as.”

“I loved how you are so proud of being Italian.”

My heart drops.

“And how you care for your family and love your parents. How I felt so safe in your arms.”

I frown and take her hands over the table as emotion overwhelms me.

Baby.

“But it was your stance on marriage that caught me off guard. You told me that when you marry, it’s going to be for life.”

I clench my jaw. She’s here to say goodbye.

No. please no.

“But then you ruined it in spectacular fashion by telling me that you own brothels, and then wanting me to be your mistress.” She shrugs. “I’m wiping that from my memory bank permanently, by the way. I’ve never been so insulted in my entire life.”

“I didn’t buy the brothels. I took them over from the family. Don’t judge me on that. And…” I pause. “I just didn’t know how to walk away from you. I was trying to find an answer to this mess—one where we can stay together.”

“I know.” She smiles sadly. “And if my self respect was for sale, I would sell it to stay in your arms.”

We stare at each other, sadness and regret hanging in the air between us.

I wasn’t joking. I really don’t know how to walk away from her.

She pulls her hands out of mine with renewed determination. “What was your magnet to me?” she asks. “Just for interest’s sake.”

Sadness begins to roll in like a thick fog.

I raise my brows as I think. “When I’m with you, I forget who I am. You remind me of who I was before,” I whisper. “When I could be who I wanted to be.” Her eyes search mine. “You are the only honest thing left in my life, and I’m scared that if I lose you, I will lose myself.” I frown. Where the hell did that come from?

I drop my head, rattled by my own admission.

“Baby,” she whispers. “You are a good man. You don’t need me or anyone to prove that to you. And when you meet her and fall in love, you will know that too.”

“I don’t want to fall in love with anyone else,” I whisper as fear grips me. “What if I’m already in love with you?”

“You’re not.” She smiles sadly with a shake of her head. She cups my hand to her cheek.

“How do you know?”

“Because when you love someone

, they instantly become your family. It isn’t a choice. Your family presents itself.”

My face falls. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I never meant for this all to happen but I couldn’t stay away.”