The Playboy of Rome

Whatever she told him would stay here in Rome. So what did it matter if she told him more about her past? It wasn’t as if it was a secret anyway. Plenty of people knew her story—and plenty of those people had used it as a yardstick to judge her. Would Dante be different?

With every fiber of her being she wanted to believe that he would be. But she’d never know unless she said the words—words that made her feel as though she was less than everyone else. Admitting to her past made her feel as though she wasn’t worthy of love.

She took a deep breath. “Before my mother died, I was placed in foster care.”

Dante sat there looking at her as though he were still waiting for her big revelation.

“Did you hear me?”

“I heard that you grew up in a foster home, but I don’t know why you would think that would make me look at you differently.”

Seriously? This was so not the reaction she was expecting. Growing up, she’d learned to keep this information to herself. When the parents of her school friends had learned that she came from a foster home, they’d clucked their tongues and shaken their heads. Then suddenly her friends had no time for her. And once she’d overheard a parent say to another, “You can never be too careful. Who knows about those foster kids. I don’t want her having a bad influence on my kid.”

The memory made the backs of Lizzie’s eyes sting. She’d already felt unwanted by her mother, who’d tossed her away as though she hadn’t mattered. And then to know that people looked down on her, it hurt—a lot. But Lizzie refused to let it destroy her. Instead, she insisted on showing them that they were wrong—that she would make something of herself.

“You don’t understand what it’s like to grow up as a foster kid. Trust me. You had it so good.”

Dante glanced away. “You don’t know that.”

“Are you serious? You have an amazing family. You know where you come from and who your parents are.”

“It may look good from the outside, but you have no idea what it’s like to live in that house and never be able to measure up.” He got to his feet and strode over to the window.

“Maybe your family expected things from you because they knew you were capable of great things. In my case, no one expected anything from me but trouble.”

“Why would they think that?”

“Don’t you get it? My parents tossed me away like yesterday’s news. If the two people in the world who were supposed to love me the most didn’t want me, it could only mean there’s something wrong with me—something unworthy.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “You don’t know what it was like to be looked at like you are less than a person.”

In three long, quick strides Dante was beside her. He sat down next to her and draped his arm around her. Needing to feel his strength and comfort, she lowered her head to his broad shoulder. The lid creaked open on the box of memories that she’d kept locked away for so many years.

Once again she was that little girl with the hand-me-down jeans with patches on the knees and the pant legs that were two inches too short. And the socks that rarely matched—she’d never forget those. She’d been incessantly taunted and teased about them.

But no longer.

Her clothes may not come from high-class shops, but they were of designer quality and gently worn so that no one knew that they were used—no one but Jules. But her foster sister was never one to judge. Probably because Jules never went for the sophisticated styles—Jules marched to a different drummer in fashion and makeup.

“I...I never had any friendships that lasted, except Jules. We had similar backgrounds and we leaned on each other through thick and thin.”

“I’m so glad she was there for you. If I had been there I’d have told those people what was up.”

Lizzie gave a little smile. “I can imagine you doing that, too.”

“I don’t understand why people have to be so mean.”

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. “You can’t imagine how awful it was. At least when I was little, I didn’t know what the looks and snide little comments by the mothers were about, but as I got older, I learned.”

Dante’s jaw tightened and a muscle in his cheek twitched. “Unbelievable.”

“The kids were even meaner. If you didn’t have the right clothes, and I never did, you’d be picked on and called names. And the right hairstyle, you had to have the latest trend. And my poker-straight hair would never cooperate. It seemed one way or another I constantly failed to fit in.”

“I think they were all just jealous. How could they not be? You’re gorgeous.?

??

His compliment was like a balm on her old wounds. Did he really mean it? She gazed deep into his eyes and saw sincerity, which stole her breath away. Dante thought she was gorgeous. A warmth started in her chest and worked its way up her neck and settled in her cheeks.

“It’s a shame they missed getting to know what a great person you are. And how caring you are.”