“I can bring her home,” Amber pipes up.
Gio’s hand on my shoulder tenses, but his words come out smooth. “That’s not necessary.”
Amber and I hug goodbye with promises of seeing each other soon. Once back in the car, I explain everything to Gio about Antonio and the text messages, and he assures me he will look into it.
About ten minutes later, we arrive in a beautiful neighborhood in Summerlin. We pull up to a gorgeous house and as we are getting out of the car, a petite woman with light brown hair and perfect highlights comes walking out.
“Giovanni, ciao, mio figlio.” She wraps her arms around Gio and he hugs her back. I’ve learned a decent amount of Italian over the years since my dream is to study photography abroad. So, I recognize that she called him her boy. She must be his mother. It suddenly hits me—I’m about to meet Gio’s family. The people who created him. Maybe they’ll help shed some light on the man who’s so hot and cold.
“Mamma, mi hai appena visto un paio di settimane fa.” Mom, you just saw me a couple weeks ago. His mom’s about to argue when she spots me standing behind Gio. While she’s dressed like she’s attending a dinner party, in a blood red Prada dress with matching peep-toe heels, I’m in skinny jeans, ripped down the front, and a soft off-the-shoulder knitted black sweater—no bra since Gio still hasn’t bought me any—complete with tall black Uggs, the ones with buttons that run up the sides.
I can feel her judging me and I’m thankful the clothes I’m wearing, while designed for comfort, are all name brand and currently in style. I didn’t understand why Gio would order me such expensive clothes, but now it all makes sense. He comes from a family of wealth.
“And who is this?” his mother asks Gio, but her eyes stay trained on me.
“Mother, this is Aria. She’s my guest for the time being.”
Her head whips around to give me a better look and I cringe as she visually inspects me, her facial expression indicating she isn’t thrilled with what she sees. Gio seems to ignore her look of scrutiny, continuing with introductions. “Aria, this is my mother, Claudia.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I bridge our gap and extend my hand to shake hers. She stares down at it for a moment and I’m almost positive she’s not going to take my hand, but her manners win out at the last second and she delicately shakes my hand, offering me a reserved smile.
“Nice to meet you, dear.” Then she turns to Gio. “I wasn’t aware we would be having an additional guest. I’ll have to have Beatrice set out another place setting.”
She walks back inside and I catch Gio roll his eyes, which makes me giggle. “What?”
“You totally rolled your eyes behind your mom’s back. It’s like you’re ten years younger, I’m telling you.”
“Hush up. Not only am I older than you, I’m wise beyond my years. Let’s go inside.” Gio grabs my hand to pull me along behind him up the driveway. I notice Johnny, Rome, and Caesar take off. Apparently, they don’t have to stay for dinner. Lucky them.
We enter the front door and step into the foyer. The home I grew up in was no shack, but this home makes my house look like one. To the right is a huge sitting room that looks like it’s never been used. Between the expensive looking couches, the large fireplace, the liquor bar, and the perfectly matching décor, the room looks professionally staged, not like a family lives here. To the left is a dining room with a table that must seat fourteen people at least. Creams and browns seem to be the color scheme everywhere. It reminds me a lot of Gio’s living area.
Gio steers me into the sitting room then leans down and whispers into my ear, “What would you like to drink?” I notice an older man eyeing us curiously from the far corner of the room but Gio doesn’t acknowledge him or make any introductions.
“Water, please.” I have no doubt I need to be sober to get through this dinner.
He leaves me to head over to the bar area to grab our drinks and I have a seat on the couch, unsure if it’s allowed but needing to take some relief off my ribs. A gentleman who looks almost identical to Gio comes over to sit next to me. He has the same brown hair as Gio, but it’s gelled to the side neatly. His eyes are brown but unlike Gio’s soft brown, his are darker, more menacing. He smirks at me when he notices I’m checking him out.
“See something you like?”
“You look like Gio,” I blurt out as way of explanation.