A Very Exclusive Engagement

“So, Francesca, tell me all about yourself. I need to know everything to play this part properly and convince everyone we’re really together.”

“I feel like I’m trying to get a green card or something.” She took a sip of wine as she tried to determine where best to start. “I grew up in Beverly Hills. My father is a Hollywood movie producer, as you know. He met my mother on a film set in Sicily and they eloped within a month of meeting.”

“So they have no room to complain about our quick engagement?”

“Not at all.” She smiled. “Although that didn’t stop my father from giving me an earful on the phone this afternoon. I had to assure him that we would have an extended engagement to keep him from hopping a jet over here and having a chat with you.”

“The longest engagement in history,” Liam quipped.

“My parents are my model for what a marriage should be. It’s what I’ve always hoped to have one day when I get married.”

Liam took note. Francesca wanted the real deal for herself, just like her parents. This was probably not what she thought her engagement would be like. He felt bad about that. But she still had her chance to have the fairy tale with the next guy. This was just a temporary arrangement.

“I have a younger sister, Therése,” she continued, “who lives in San Francisco. She’s a fashion photographer. I moved to D.C. after graduation to go to Georgetown.”

“I went to Georgetown, too. Maybe we were there at the same time.” Francesca recited the years and, thankfully, they partially overlapped with his own. He’d graduated two years before she had. “That’s excellent,” he said. “I think if we tell people that we dated back in college and then met up again this year, it will make the speed of this relationship more palatable. What did you study?”

“I got a degree in communications with a minor in political science. I’d originally intended to become a political news commentator.”

“It’s a shame you didn’t. I would’ve loved to have you on my big screen every night. It’s funny we didn’t meet until now. I had a minor in communications. I’m surprised we didn’t have a class together.”

Francesca shrugged. “Maybe we did. A lot of those classes were pretty large.”

Liam shook his head. There was no way he could’ve been in the same room with Francesca and not have seen her. Even in one of those freshman courses they held in the huge auditoriums. His cocky, frat boy self would’ve picked up on those curves and asked her out in a heartbeat. “I would’ve noticed you. I’m certain of that.”

Francesca blushed and started fidgeting with the gold pendant around her neck that looked like some kind of horn. For dinner, she’d changed into a burgundy wrap dress with a low V-cut neckline and an abundance of cleavage. He’d noticed the necklace earlier, but every time he thought to ask about it, he’d been mentally sidetracked by the sight of her breasts.

“So what’s that necklace about? You seem to have it on whenever I’ve seen you.”

She looked down at it before holding it out a little for him to see it better. “It’s a corno portafortuna. My nonna gave it to me. It’s Italian tradition to wear one to ward off the evil eye. You never know when someone might curse you, especially in this town. I wear it for good luck.”

The way the horn rested right in the valley of her breasts was certainly lucky for him. It gave him an excuse to look at the firm globes of flesh he could still feel in his hands and pretend he was admiring her jewelry. “In the elevator you mentioned spending summers in Italy with your grandmother.”

“Yes, I spent every summer in Sicily from when I was about five until I graduated from high school. My mother would travel with me when I was younger, but once I reached junior high, I got to fly alone. My mother said it was important for me to keep in touch with my culture. My nonna would teach me authentic Italian recipes and tell me stories about our family. My sister and I both learned a good bit of Italian over the years. I don’t remember as much as I should now.”

“You know all the dirty words,” Liam noted.

“Of course.” She laughed. “You always remember the words and phrases that you shouldn’t know.”

“You picked up all your superstitions there too?”

“Yes. Italians are a very superstitious people. My nonna told me she only taught me a few of them. It’s amazing. My mother never really cared for all that, but it was something special I shared with Nonna. She died last year, but the superstitions keep her alive in my mind.”