In the coming days, Christian always sent Rosetta a rose each morning at her doorstep with a card attached. Each card either bore poetry or simply a message asking her out for lunch or to have a lovely walk around town. Rosetta didn't find any reason to deny his requests. Everybody knew about them and would gossip over a cup of coffee in cafes through hushed tones.
One Sunday afternoon at the Romano villa, Christian stood in the study room with its marble columns and arched windows looking out on the lush green lawn and lemon trees of the Romano estate. As soon as the door to the study opened, Christian knew she's here.
Mrs. Romano stepped into the room, her black heels clicking onto the black marble floor. She wore an elegant black dress with a black belt on her tiny waist. Her cherry red lips stood out seductively on her round face, and her jet black hair is tied in a bun with a silver bun brooch. Her soft brown eyes, similar to Christian's, lit up upon seeing her son. At times they were cold and black. She looked quite young for someone in her fifties, though a few wrinkles under her eyes were visible if you looked hard enough.
"Christian," greeted Mrs. Romano her voice sounded like a lullaby wrapped in iron – gentle but hard to ignore. She gave him a peck on the cheek. "I'm glad you could see me, knowing you have a meeting to attend to."
Christian took his mother's left hand and gently kissed the outside of her palm. "Anything for you, Mamma," he said. "What's so urgent?"
"Come." Mrs. Romano slipped her hand away from Christian's and turned to the mahogany office table at one end of the study once belonging to Mr. Romano. Christian followed her. She went round the table and settled on the black office chair, making sure to straighten her dress. Christian sat on one of the black chairs facing his mother.
"Someone has piqued your interest of late, mio figlio," (my son), said Mrs. Romano. "Why haven't you told me about her?"
"We've been going out a few times. We aren't seriously in a relationship. I like her, though."
Mrs. Romano interlaced her fingers on the desk. "Does she know who you are?"
"She does."
"Is she comfortable with you being around her?"
"She's never tried to chase me away."
Mrs. Romano leaned her body closer. "I hear she studied law abroad. What makes you think she won't try to turn you and the rest of us in?"
"We own the best lawyers, Mamma. She knows not to do anything stupid. If you're worried she might be working for the enemy, I already did a background check."
"Girls like her always leave. If they're lucky. Don't forget, you're the next Don of the BlackJack, and you don't need a woman so weak."
"Rosetta is a lot stronger than you think, Mamma." Christian clenched his fists on his knees.
"Che peccato." (What a pity.) She stood up from her seat and walked round the table, heading for the door. "You see a heart. I see a weakness. You have a legacy to protect, and it's not with her."
The bodyguard at the door drew it open, and Mrs. Romano walked out. Christian clenched his jaw, resentment simmering beneath the surface.
After the encounter with his mother, Christian told Rosetta what happened at her apartment one evening. After having dinner, they stood at the balcony; the smell of the salty sea blew alongside the breeze of the chilling night.
Rosetta stood in a soft white cotton dress, the apartment lights brushing her face like strokes of oil on canvas. She held a glass of red wine as she listened to Christian, who leaned against the rail, tell his story. He also held a glass, and he drank the wine in one fell swoop after he finished speaking.
"What are you going to do?" Rosetta asked. "Will we stop seeing each other?"
Christian straightened himself and looked at Rosetta, his gaze soft. "Do you want to?"
Rosetta took a sip of her wine, and Christian looks at the red stain of her lipstick on the glass. She placed the glass on the wooden table beside her. She looked at Christian, her green eyes gleaming.
"No." Rosetta's cheeks warmed, blooming like a rose. "I keep finding your scent in places you've never been."
Christian approached her and placed his empty glass on the table next to hers. Rosetta held her breath as his scent drew her in. Christian wrapped his hands around her waist, bringing her closer. The feel of his hands made Rosetta's skin tingle.
"I don't want to stop seeing you either, Rosetta," Christian whispered, the scent of rich wine escaping his lips like ambrosia, intoxicating her.
"What of your mother and your legacy?" Rosetta asked.
Christian looked at Rosetta's red heart-shaped lips. "With you I don't care." Christian pressed his lips upon hers, and Rosetta responded in kind. They spent an unforgettable night together.153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡtvs9c0r2DV
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