choice. She’s always going to be my choice. I would like you to leave now.”
“This is ridiculous. You can’t possibly be throwing me out.”
“I am politely asking you to leave my residence and not to return until you can be pleasant to Grace. The same Grace who saved my life.”
Eloisa rolled her eyes. “I suppose you’re very grateful to her. Write a check, don’t marry her. And if you want to throw that in my face and imply that I should be grateful to her as well, I remind you that if it wasn’t for her, no one would have been shooting at you.”
“And I would remind you that had you told us about her, she would have been safe, and no one would have been shot.” He leveled his gaze on his mother’s face. He was finished talking.
Even Eloisa knew him well enough to know that look. She threw her hands into the air. “Fine. Make a fool of yourself. You boys all seem to want to follow in Stefano’s footsteps. I haven’t seen his precious Francesca. She’s not working. She just spends her time like a princess in a tower. It makes me sick.”
He took a step toward her. He had no problem picking her up and putting her out the door, but she took one look at his face and turned and strode out, without looking back.
Vittorio turned slowly back to Grace. She had the icy glass pressed to her forehead and her eyes were closed. That was a bad sign. Grace was no pushover. And she was intelligent. She wouldn’t fail to miss his mother’s accusations.
She lifted her long lashes and he was staring into her very speculative eyes. There was pain on her face, sorrow in her eyes. She’d believed in him more than she realized. It was there on her face. There was satisfaction in that knowledge, but he really detested the sadness his mother’s revelations had caused her.
“Grace . . .”
“Just tell me, Vittorio. What criteria do I meet?”
“My mother is a very bitter, caustic woman. Don’t let her hurt you.”
“Eloisa Ferraro can’t hurt me, Vittorio. You can. I need you to explain to me what criteria I meet.”
“If I can’t explain it to you?”
“I suppose you want me to blindly follow you without any explanation whatsoever. That isn’t going to happen. I suggest you tell me what she meant.”
“I think, at this time, no matter what explanation I give you, your mind is closed.”
Grace was silent. Her gaze shifted from his face to the lake. She looked so sad he wanted to gather her close to him and hold her.
“That’s true. I think I’m overwhelmed with everything, and we’re moving far too fast.” Her gaze jumped back to his. “I don’t believe in fairy tales, Vittorio. I let myself believe for a few minutes there, because I wanted it so much to be real. You’ re . . . extraordinary. You really are. Some woman will be very lucky to have you in her life.”
There was no way for her to take the ring off and he was glad about that.
“Grace, don’t. My mother is very good at saying the things she knows will hurt others. It’s her special gift. She deliberately wanted you to feel as if you weren’t important or loved by me. Our life is ours, not anyone else’s. What we choose to do between us is for us alone. I’m telling you, stating it as a fact, that you’re my choice. I love everything about you. I can name a dozen of your traits right now, if that would convince you, but you have to believe in me. In us. I can’t give you that. You have to feel it.”
She tilted her head and looked up at him, her eyes meeting his. “Is there truth in what she said? Do I meet some important criteria for you? Something that made you notice me?”
“The gunshot wasn’t enough for me to notice you?”
She didn’t buy his diversion. She waited, her gaze steady.
Vittorio sighed and crouched down in front of her, eye level. “Yes, Grace, there are criteria that all of our women have to meet, and you do. Was it the first thing I noticed about you? Not even close. I saw you explode out of the trunk of that car. You nearly lit up the parking lot with your fury. There were two big men, both carrying weapons, enforcers for Miceli. There was Haydon Phillips, trying to sell you