The bed might be cold, but the words warmed Mina’s heart.
“Couldn’t keep me away,” she said, and meant it.
She headed out the door and down the hall, her bare feet silent on the Oriental runner, and she looked around her with new eyes. It was a beautiful place, a contrast of dark woods and windows, and she understood Marco’s fondness for it, even though his childhood here hadn’t been ideal.
She descended the stairs lightly, and she realized she’d never been this comfortable in the house before. The weight of her uncertainty had made her an outsider, regardless of reality, and she hoped that it was gone for good. There would be days when she didn’t fit in, and there’d be a steep learning curve for dealing with Marco’s world, but it was her world too, now, and it would be a challenge she looked forward to.
The office was as bad as she expected. Papers were everywhere, a pen cup had been thrown across the room spilling its contents across the floor, but Mina couldn’t help but be a little embarrassed by the silent testimony of her clothes. She found her shirt and bra hanging on the back of an armchair, and her jeans in a crumpled pile beneath the desk. Her panties? Well, they were around somewhere, but…
“You are back.”
Mina raised up quickly from her search and hit her head on the bottom of the desk with a crack. Bianca Genovese was standing in the door, her back ramrod straight and an oddly curious look on her face.
“I will be honest, I doubted you would return.”
The embarrassment she’d felt at being caught searching for her underwear faded quickly as she confronted the woman who’d tried so hard to chase her out of Marco’s life.
“What is it they say? Climate is what you expect and weather is what you get?” Mina straightened the clothes in her arms. “Well, it looks like the weather has rained on your parade.”
The older woman looked at her for a moment, obviously trying to follow the English, and Mina wished for the millionth time she spoke Italian. It was much easier to yell in Italian.
“My parade. Yes. I think I understand.” She nodded and looked at the clothes in Mina’s arms. “I assume that Marco has returned as well?”
There was no anger in her voice, no accusation, and Mina nodded warily. “He brought me back.”
Bianca walked into the office. She walked across to the fireplace behind the desk and lifted a pair of black cotton panties from the poker handle. She held them out and Mina took them from her with an embarrassed, “Thank you.”
The silence between them was so thick you could spread it on toast, but Mina knew there was no advantage in arguing with her. Nothing she said would change this woman’s opinion of her.
“I do not expect that you like me very much.”
There’s a news flash, Mina thought. She nodded, a polite admission, but didn’t say anything.
“I wouldn’t like me very much either, if I were in your place.”
The admission was a surprise. Marco’s mother sounded almost apologetic, and that couldn’t be right.
“When Marco told me that he was handing the family’s heritage, the collezione, over to a total stranger I was furious. Then, when I realized he was using it as leverage to get into your bed, I was even more so.” A tight line developed around her mouth. “I did not raise my son to buy the attentions of women, and any woman who allowed herself to be bought, well…” she made a noise in her throat and Mina winced.
“As if it wasn’t enough for him to be sending his heritage off to some American museum, he had the nerve to bring you here. To his home. To me.” She turned away and stared out the window. “It was intolerable.”
Mina stood silently, every word hitting her like a little splash of alcohol in a paper cut. Superficial, but excruciating. A special kind of torture.
“I saw you and I knew you were a gold digging little puttana.” Finally there was anger in Bianca’s voice.
I knew she knew what a whore was, Mina thought bitterly.
“I called Serafina Mazza, the woman you saw in the office with Marco, and told her that he was back in the country. I told her that he wanted to marry, to settle down, and take up his family’s responsibilities here in Portofino.” Bianca gave a twisted little smile. “I thought it was better to have the devil I knew, instead of the devil I didn’t.”
Black eyes fixed on Mina, and she braced herself for another attack.
“I was wrong.”
It was so far from what she was expecting that she swayed on her feet, her resistance unnecessary.
“Wrong?” It wasn’t smart to ask--there were too many ways she could be hurt by this woman--but she couldn’t help herself. She needed to understand.