The Italian Heir: An International Legacies Romance (BWWM) by Camilla Stevens

Author:Camilla Stevens [Stevens, Camilla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-06-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lorenzo

There is already a crowd of scooters lining the street outside Andrea’s when I arrive on my Vespa, Violet clinging to my back. The feel of her grip around my midsection has settled the uneasy feeling that’s been sitting there as the day transitioned into night.

It didn’t help that we were mostly lazy during the day with little in the way of excitement to replace the morning’s conversation that still loomed like a cloud over the two of us.

The restaurant has been closed for the event, so the bikes outside assure me that the party is well underway.

As we enter, Violet’s hand clinging to mine, I do a quick scan of the small crowd, seeking out one or two faces in particular.

Carina is the first one they land on.

It’s no surprise she’s one of the early arrivers. She was never one to avoid meeting things head-on. She’s already looking my way, and a tiny smirk appears on her face as our eyes connect.

Also being one who prefers getting business over and done with a soon as possible, I’m the one to actually approach her, leading Violet by the hand.

As usual, it strikes me how much she looks like our mother, the same generous mouth in an oval face, long straight nose, and impossibly high cheekbones. The only difference is those large brown eyes look on with same cunning, calculating hardness of our father’s gaze, just a different hue. Perhaps this aquamarine color I share with him would have been better suited for her. Knowing my sister, she’d consider it just as much a curse as I do since she’s always viewed her good looks as a burden in business rather than an asset and this coloring would transform her from gorgeous in a sultry sort of way to perfectly stunning.

“Fratellino,” she says, her cool gaze sizing me up as she swirls the glass of red wine in one hand. Her eyes slide to Violet, and I can already sense her trying to categorize what she probably assumes is my latest plaything.

“This is Violet Patterson,” I say, giving her as little information as possible. “Violet, this is my younger sister, Carina.”

“Nice to meet you,” Violet says, smiling and reaching out a hand.

Carina shakes it, pumping it twice in her practiced way that doesn’t just announce her authority to the world but shouts it from the rooftops. This would have been the case even if I hadn’t made sure to stress the “younger” when I announced her as my sister.

“My pleasure,” she says in perfect English that has a hint of the British she picked up from her period at Oxford, where she went to school.

Carina turns back to me and continues in Italian. “She’s different from the others. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of settling down.” She narrows her eyes with amused contempt, but I can easily read the deep interest hidden behind them.

It’s laughable how invested she is in the family business. Especially considering our father couldn’t care less about her.

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