Page 86 of Trust Me

The threads of my heart snap, the frays sending warmth throughout my entire body at his admission. He loves me. Elio Mazzo loves me.

I smile widely at him, my cheeks warming. While I feel the same way, I find my throat clogged with emotion, unable to say it back at this very moment. So I crane my neck, pressing my lips to his softly. Our lips move slowly with one another. It’s savoring, loving, and sweet.

I use my lips to tell him what I can’t say out loud. While I know I love him, I don’t know how to say those eight letters yet.

I’m grateful he understands that, not at all upset that I didn’t say it back. Elio’s confession was him telling me how he feels without any expectations, and I think I love him a little more for that.

We eventually made it down to the lobby several minutes later once he held me in his arms silently until he calmed down, then out to the parking lot where we climbed back into his SUV, driving to his mom’s.

Pulling up to the house, my jaw drops at the beautiful landscaping, but it drops even more once the mansion comes into full view.

Elio parks, then we walk hand in hand to the front door. He doesn’t bother knocking, walking right in. The first thing I notice is that it’s loud, conversations, laughter, and children arguing instantly hitting me. The second thing I notice is how elegant the home is, and the third is the smell of something baked with cheese wafting throughout the house.

A small child runs past us, followed by another, but then they both stop, turning to face us.

“Zio Leo.” The girl beams up at him.

“Zio!” the boy shouts.

Elio crouches down to their level. “How are my favorite niece and nephew?” He scratches their heads, muffling their hair in the process. “Jasmine, this is Milo and Mia, and kids, this is Jasmine.”

We exchange quick hellos, when a woman walks into the foyer.

“I literally fixed their hair a minute ago,” she groans as she pats the kids’ hair back into place. Her long black hair is in a ponytail, her eyes match the darkness of mine, and her frame is tall and lean like Elio. She must be his sister.

“Gabriella,” he says, standing back up as he wraps an arm around my waist. “This is my girlfriend, Jasmine.”

“Ouuuu, Zio has a crush!” Mia giggles, looking no older than five or six.

“Ew, girls have cooties, Zio.” Milo fake gags, who looks slightly older than his sister.

“Enough you two, go find Nonna and tell her that we can finally eat,” Gabriella instructs them, directing them back to the room they came from.

“It’s nice to meet you. You’re the designer, right?” I ask.

“Yes, that’s me. My twin is the model. I like to design the clothes, and she likes to wear them.” She smiles as she takes me in. “You’re stunning. Have you ever thought about modeling? I’d love to have you wear one of my pieces.”

My eyes widen. “Me?” I choke on a laugh, Elio’s warm hand on my back reassuringly. “I’m flattered, but I don’t think I’d be a good model.”

“We’ll see.” Her lips grin devilishly. “It’s nice to meet you. Finally someone who puts my brother in his place.”

“Oh, trust me, I do.” I chuckle, sneaking a glance at Elio, who’s laughing under his breath.

“What did I miss?” A woman who looks identical to Gabriella, except with hazel eyes, enters the room. “Oh, it’s Jasmine. I’ve heard lots about you. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Daniella.” She smiles, pulling me into a hug.

I hug her back, pulling back once she does. “It’s nice to meet you too. Elio speaks so highly of you all.”

“You mean he speaks very highly of me, his favorite sister,” his other sister, Bria, enters the room. She looks different than her sisters, her hair a light brown, eyes green like Elio’s, and much shorter than her siblings. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Bria.” She sticks her hand out to me.

I shake it, smiling warmly at her. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

“All right, let’s move this introduction thing to the dining table. I’m starving,” Bria complains, motioning for us to follow her.

We do, passing by various pieces of art down the hallway until we take a left in the middle, entering a grand dining room. There’s a chandelier that’s probably worth more than my education hanging above the glass table.

Jesus. I knew Elio had money, but this isn’t anything I’m used to.

His mother enters from the kitchen, placing a bottle of red wine on the table.