Page 106 of Burning Caine

She put up a hand. “It took me almost an hour to do my hair and makeup. You are not messing them up!”

“Your loss, bella.” I squeezed her thigh and she smacked my hand away.

The large wrought-iron gate with decorative shields was open for the guests. It separated the property from the main road and led us to the driveway of burnt umber paving stones. We drove around the marble fountain in front of the house and parked on the side. Their house was a red brick monstrosity, two stories in front with colonnades and an immense balcony above the main doors.

She breathed it in. “You didn’t do it justice.”

“Sì, it’s a bit garish.”

“How many rooms?”

“I don’t actually know.”

“How many bedrooms?”

“Good question.” I winked at her as I dropped my sunglasses into the center console.

She laughed me off. “As a basis of size.”

“Seven, I think?

“Really?”

“Shall we go in, or would you like to estimate the square footage next?” I rounded the car to open her door and held out a hand.

“I’d say twenty thousand?”

“You are stalling.”

As she stood, she placed a hand on her stomach. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this. I mean, you have a big decision to make after this date, after all. It would be pretty awkward to come by your office on Monday if you’ve decided to end it at three dates.”

I met her sarcasm with my own. “Then you had better put your best face on.” When she didn’t smile, I kissed her cheek and wrapped my arms around her. “You realize I’ve already made my decision, sì? You are playing with me?”

“Yeah, I know.” She blushed, failing at a smile.

“Don’t worry, bella.” I kissed her cheek again. “You are perfect, and they will love you.”

We walked up the end of the driveway, up the marble steps to the house. I opened one of the large wooden doors. The bright marble foyer and walls were a warm shade of cream. The wide spiraling staircase led both upstairs and down and the chandelier dangled on its long chain from the ceiling far above us.

Her eyes scanned the room, likely measuring distances and estimating values. When they arrived at the two-story windows of the sitting room opposite the foyer, she leaned forward, drawn to the view.

“Antonio, my boy!” My father’s head popped up from one of the high-backed chairs in the sitting room. The whole crowd stood and approached us. Samantha’s grip on my hand tightened.

She would be fine. Sofia adored her already. My father would fawn over her, her intelligence, and her passion for art crimes. My mother was simply excited I was finally introducing them to a woman after so many years. They all swore they would be nice to her.

My father was shorter than her in her high heels, but his personality more than made up for it. He grabbed her hand from me and kissed it three times.

“Please, Antonio!” He didn’t take his eyes off her. “Tell me this is not your Samantha. She’s too beautiful for you. I must take her away for myself!”

“Sì, Papa, this is Samantha. She’s too smart for me, as well, so be careful.”

“Then my heart is broken. If she’s too smart for you, then she’s far too smart for me!”

She chuckled at him. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Dr. Ferraro.”

“Dom! You must call me Dom! Dom Ferraro. Like Dom Perignon, but better, because it’s Italian!”

She stifled a laugh, which quickly broke free. He used that joke on everyone he met, and it was especially effective on the women.