Page 116 of Coerced Kiss
“Thanks.” She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and chews it for a couple of seconds before saying, “I can take a taxi when I’m done.”
That’s laughable. “I’m coming in with you.”
She clutches the strap of her bag that’s slung over her shoulder. “Why?”
“Given how serious our relationship is getting, it’s normal that I meet your mother. Wouldn’t you say so?”
“I don’t?—”
Not giving her a chance to finish, I usher her to the door and knock.
Footsteps sound on the other side. I look up, taking in the bars in front of the windows.
A mature man dressed in scrubs opens the door. His face lights up when he sees Anya, but when he notices me, a question passes through his eyes.
Addressing Anya, he says, “You brought company.”
Clearly flustered, Anya says, “Um, yes. This is Saverio, my, um?—”
“Fiancé,” I say, holding out a hand. “Well, future fiancé. We haven’t chosen the ring yet.”
Anya looks at me quickly, her pretty eyes flaring.
The man frowns. “I’m Bertrand.” He shakes my hand. “That was fast.”
Yeah. Anyone who knows Anya will know I’d never be her normal choice of a boyfriend, let alone a husband. I’m practiced at charming people, but Bertrand is too old and wise to let anyone pull the wool over his eyes.
“Actually, we met a while ago,” I say. “Anya wanted to keep it quiet until we were certain about being serious.”
“I see,” he says, but his inquisitive expression tells a different story. “Come in.”
We follow him through a security door to the back of the building. He leaves us in front of a private room and tells Anya with a meaningful tone to call if we need him.
“You can wait in the lounge,” Anya says.
Her words aren’t cold yet before I’ve opened the door and walked inside. A middle-aged woman sits in a chair next to the window, staring out at the garden.
Her mouth thins before she spares me a glance. “It’s about fucking time.”
She turns her face my way, and, not finding who she expected, her dull brown eyes grow wide. She looks nothing like Anya. The smile on her lips isn’t warm, and the light in her eyes isn’t soft. She’s quick to hide her reaction and equally fast to measure me with a gaze. She ends her evaluation on my handmade Italian shoes.
Anya scurries around me. “I brought a friend. This is Saverio. Saverio, this is my mom, Mary.”
A nasty, sly expression transforms Mary’s face. “Are you fucking her?”
“Mom,” Anya exclaims.
My smile is cold. “That’s none of your business.”
Mary looks around me, addressing her daughter. “He’s got money, this one. I can see it by his fancy fucking clothes. You should take your due, Anya, milk him while the only thing he’s interested in is between your legs, because when he grows tired of your cunt, he’ll throw you out on the street, and you won’t get another dime from his filthy rich fucking ass.”
“Oh my God.” Anya covers her face with her hands. “Why are you always doing this, Mom? Saverio, we should go.”
“Already?” Mary mocks. “Why, my little girl is ashamed of me. I pushed her through my vagina. Nearly died in the process too. You’d think she’d show a little more gratitude and respect for me.”
Anya stiffens. “You know, I’m growing tired of the same old tune. You nearly died giving birth to me only when it suits you. When it doesn’t, you’re quick to remind me what a ball and chain I am around your ankle.”
Mary lifts her chin. “Then why do you still come here?” She scowls. “You sure as hell don’t bring my booze or cigarettes, so what’s the point? Do you think I want to sit here and make fucking small talk with you?” Her laugh is nasty. “If you think I want to hear anything about your miserable life, you’re delusional.”