ROMAN
In the morning, I go for a jog to take care of some restless energy. Massimo laid out the plan last night, and I’m more than ready to dive into the vineyards. It’s been too long since I’ve seen Mass. Months.
I head down for breakfast and stretch before seeing Grandma. She kisses my cheek and pats me. Italian whips off her tongue, but it’s still as soothing as a lullaby. “Such a good boy. Come to help me with breakfast?”
“Of course, grandma.”
She goes to hug me, then pushes me away. “Shower, first.”
I chuckle and go to do just that. When I come out, I see Sophia. She has on an airy skirt that reaches her shin and a wrap top. Her hair is pinned on one side, but she looks stunning as always. She notices me and smiles.
“Would you like to help with breakfast?” I ask.
“I’m terrible in the kitchen. Haven’t you noticed the take-out theme? The frozen dinners?”
“Grandma will order you around anyway.” I take her hand.
She smiles and nods, bouncing after me. In the kitchen, Grandma looks at her as she works. There’s flour on her cheek already somehow, but she’s working hard, staying focused and repeating the translated instructions to herself.
It’s adorable.
Innocent.
It’s Sophia.
“She’s a good one,” Grandma says in Italian. “Works hard. Wants to impress. Don’t let her get away from you.”
“Grandma.” I shake my head, but I don’t burst her bubble. She’ll only be around for so much longer, and who am I to tell her she’s wrong?
Sophie is better than good. Sophie is … excellent. She’s smart, capable, sweet, but there’s more. She hides a darker side, one that knows just what it wants and will take it. That’s the side I want to push to see.
I find every excuse to touch her while we cook. She blushes each time I rub her sides, slide my hands over hers, help her fill the pastries with fruit. Sophia shivers when I adjust the apron around her neck.
“Roman, we’re around … people.”
“And I’m behaving … mostly.” I tease her skirt. Sure she can feel my fingers on her ass. “Mostly.”
“Yeah. Mostly.” She glances at my grandmother, so focused on what she’s doing she wouldn’t notice a bomb go off. “It feels disrespectful.”
“We’re a touchy bunch.” I chuckle.
But I back away. A no, a hesitation, that’s enough. I don’t want her uncomfortable with me touching her, and if I toe the line now, I know that she’ll open up more for me. Something about Sophie makes me think she’s holding out on something. I’m not sure what, but there’s something that I don’t know. Something big.
Once we put the pastries in the oven, I’m almost sad. I like being in the kitchen with her. And her comment about not cooking is bullshit, given her pancakes. But she’s modest. I like that too.
I don’t know if it’s possible to not like Sophia once there’s a conversation going. Hell, I bet even Sasha could get over her jealousy if she bothered to have a real conversation with her. She hangs up the apron and smiles.
“I should get cleaned up before we eat.” She says to me, then to my grandmother, “grazi! For teaching me how to … do this.”
She made an attempt, and that’s enough for right now. Hell, she’s attempted more with my family in terms of connecting than most. And she does it with such grace. I shake my head, and then I follow and join everyone with breakfast.
Happy friends, well-rested, everything good. This is what life should be. Hell, this could be our life in a few years. And I’d want Sophia to be a part of it. It hits me square in the chest. Like I have no armor, no bulletproof vest. Nothing to defend my heart from her.
It thuds extra as she chuckles and nudges Nick. She’s gotten into our circle so easily, torn through the defenses better than any strategic attack. I sit down with a smile on my face, and then Massimo and Danny come over.
Danny beams at us. “You all look … well-rested.”
“Don’t start,” Massimo says, despite the smirk in his eyes. “We’re behaving today.”
“Sure.” I snort.
Massimo chuckles. “I mean it. I’m wearing my name all over me, throwing it around happily. We’re all going to behave today.”
I smile slightly and then nod.
After breakfast, we head out, and Sophia sits between Nick and me. Nick behaves, just talking with her, but I can’t help myself; I sling my arm over her shoulders. She leans into me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
When we slide out of the limo, we’re at a gorgeous vineyard, the kind of land that belongs in a movie. Massimo does all the talking, and then we’re being led through the vineyard. The path is easy enough, and I can already picture how to get to where we need to go.