Chapter 80 CHAPTER 80

Chapter 80 CHAPTER 80
“Mi amore?”

The words hung in the air between Anna and Vincenzo.

She stared at him, her mind going blank for a second. 

She didn’t know Italian, but she understood what those words meant, probably from watching too many Italian movies and hearing it spoken in soft, intimate moments meant for lovers.

But why did Vincenzo call her that?

Her pulse quickened, unease crawling up her spine as she searched his face for answers. 

Vincenzo stood there as he always did, composed and unruffled, his expression carefully arranged into something almost gentle.

Too gentle.

“Anna?” he called, his voice still wrapped in that fake, warm tone, as if nothing about the moment was strange, as if the word had not slipped out loaded with meaning.

Anna swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, unsure whether to respond or what responding might invite.

“Anna?” Vincenzo called again, his voice calm but sharp, pulling her out of her spiraling thoughts.

She blinked, snapping out of her daze.

“Yes. Yes, I insisted on coming,” she said quickly, her words spilling out as she turned to face Vincenzo’s father.

The old man in the wheelchair studied her for a moment before a slow smile curved his lips, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling with faint amusement. “It is a pleasure to have you here, dear.”

Anna forced a small, tight smile. “Thank you, sir.”

A soft chuckle escaped the old man as he waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, dear, drop the formality. You’re just like my daughter.”

Anna hesitated, swallowing before she managed, “Okay.”

The woman behind the old man, dressed in a striking red dress with sleek dark hair, stepped forward. “Hello, dear. My name is Isabella.” Her voice was warm and filled with joy.

“Oh, hey, Isabella,” Anna said.

The girl to Isabella’s left, a little older, with curly hair and dressed in a black dress, gave a small wave. “I’m Rosalia.”

Anna gave her a polite smile in return.

The woman beside Rosalia, who appeared to be the oldest, gave a small nod. She was dressed in cream palazzo trousers and a pink sleeve top. “I’m Martina. It’s nice to have you with us.”

Martina bore a striking resemblance to Vincenzo—only younger, and female. They could almost have been mistaken for twins.

All of them spoke with thick Italian accents, their English sometimes unclear, but Anna understood well enough.

“Thank you, Martina. It’s… nice to be here.” Anna said, forcing a smile to stay on her face.

“Let’s go inside,” the old man said. “So you both can settle in.”

“Alright,” Vincenzo replied.

Isabella pushed the old man’s wheelchair through the grand entrance, with Martina and Rosalia following close behind.

Vincenzo’s hand stayed firmly at Anna’s waist, guiding her forward.

The moment Anna entered the living room, her breath caught.

The room was enormous. High ceilings were adorned with intricate paintings, and golden chairs with velvet cushions surrounded a gleaming marble fireplace.

A crystal chandelier hung like a frozen waterfall, scattering light across the polished floors. It felt less like a home and more like a palace.

“Let’s take a seat,” Vincenzo said to Anna.

“Okay,” she whispered.

He guided her to a long, plush sofa and finally removed his hand from her waist.

A rush of relief washed over her. His touch had made her uncomfortable, though she had done her best not to show it.

But the relief was short-lived. 

As soon as they sat, Vincenzo took her left hand, weaving his fingers tightly through hers and resting their clasped hands on his knee. 

Anna froze, staring at him in shock.

He smiled—calm, flawless, practiced. He could see the unease in her gaze, but it meant nothing to him.

This was all for show. 

In front of his family, they had to appear like the perfect, happy couple, no matter how she felt.

“So, Anna,” the old man opposite them began, taking a small glass of water from Rosalia. “Where are you from?”

“Minneapolis,” she replied, keeping her voice steady.

“Oh, that’s lovely,” he said with a small smile.

Rosalia stepped forward and handed Anna a cup of water. 

Anna nodded slightly and mouthed a quiet “thank you,” in response.

“You look very pretty, Anna,” the old man said, tilting his head slightly. “Your smile, your gestures… they remind me so much of my late wife.”

His late wife? Anna thought, a flicker of surprise running through her. 

She’s dead… 

That explained why Vincenzo’s mother wasn’t here.

“Oh… really? That’s… lovely,” Anna said, a small, warm smile spreading across her face.

“Yes,” the old man continued. “You know, I’ve been urging my son for quite some time now to get married and give me a grandchild, but he kept refusing. When he called a few weeks ago to say he’d married in secret and was bringing you home… well, I thought it was just another one of his jokes. But seeing you now? I’m truly glad he chose someone as decent as you to be his wife.”

“You know I always make the best choice in women, Papa,” Vincenzo said with a sly smile.

“Yes, you truly do, my son,” the old man replied with a low chuckle.

Anna forced a small, strained smile.

Now it all made sense to her why Vincenzo had insisted on marrying her. It had been entirely at his father’s request. And since she was already carrying his child, she was the perfect candidate to fulfill the role of his wife.

“Anna, what about your parents? How are they doing?” the old man asked.

Anna felt her throat tighten, her words caught before they could form.

“My parents… they’re dead,” she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips.

“Oh,” the old man said, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, child.”

Anna gave a small, wobbly smile. “It’s… okay.”

“What about your other relatives? Any uncles or aunties? Siblings? Do you have anyone else?” the old man asked.

“I don’t have any siblings. I’m an only child,” Anna replied. “My father was an only child too. My mother has a sister, but I barely know her. The only person I was close to was my grandmother, my father’s mother. But she passed away a few weeks ago.”

Vincenzo’s hand tightened around hers. It wasn’t painful, but the firm pressure gave her a small measure of comfort.

“Damn,” Rosalia breathed. “That’s… sad.”

“Yeah,” Anna whispered.

“May their souls rest in peace, dear,” the old man said, making a slow sign of the cross. “It’s tragic that you had to go through all of that. But don’t worry. You have a family now. We are your family. You can call on us for anything.”

Anna nodded, an unexpected lump forming in her throat.

Martina leaned forward, clearly trying to lighten the mood. “So, Anna, what do you do for fun?”

“I love reading books,” Anna said.

“Boring,” Isabella chirped, a playful smile tugging at her lips as she rolled her eyes.

Martina swatted her sister’s arm playfully.

“Ouch! That hurts,” Isabella protested, rubbing her hand.

“Serves you right,” Martina said, smirking.

Anna smiled as she watched them.

“Besides reading books,” Martina asked, leaning forward with curiosity, “what else do you enjoy doing, Anna?”

Anna opened her mouth, searching for an answer. “I… um…”

“She likes being with me,” Vincenzo cut, his voice a low, warm rumble. 

He lifted their clasped hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. The touch sent a shivering jolt through her.

Rosalia giggled. “Get a room, lovebirds!” 

The room erupted in easy laughter, the tension slipping away.

And just like that, they fell into a rhythm of light conversation, sharing small stories and asking gentle questions. 

The sisters told funny tales about Vincenzo as a boy, his mischief and stubborn streaks making Anna laugh. 

She found herself truly laughing for what felt like the first time in years. 

She felt…comfortable and happy.

After a few hours, as evening settled over the mansion, it was time for dinner. 

Vincenzo told everyone that he and Anna needed some time to freshen up before joining them.

They exchanged brief goodbyes and made their way up the grand staircase.

At the end of a long, carpeted hallway, Vincenzo opened a heavy wooden door and stepped into a bedroom. Anna followed close behind.

The room was vast, dominated by a large bed draped in white silk sheets that shimmered in the soft light. 

Vincenzo moved straight to the nightstand, unclasping his watch and setting it down with a quiet click.

Anna lingered near the door, hesitant. “Um… will I be staying here?”

“Yes,” he replied without looking at her.

“And you?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

He finally glanced over his shoulder and looked at her. “This is my room. So yes, I’ll be staying here too.”

“We will both be staying here?”

“Yes.”

“But…” Anna started, her chest tightening, her heart beginning to race.

“No buts, Anna. We are both staying here. So stop asking stupid questions,” he cut in harshly.

And just like that, the warm, kind attitude he had shown her downstairs disappeared.

The gentle, practiced façade melted away.

He was just… him again.

His soft smile and gentle voice vanished, leaving only his cold, dark expression. The one Anna knew too well. 

Without another word, he began taking off his clothes, and Anna quickly looked away, her cheeks burning.

Once he was completely naked, he walked to the large wardrobe, pulled a towel from the shelf, and wrapped it around his waist.

“You’ll wash up after me,” he said, heading toward a door that likely led to the bathroom.

“Alright,” Anna murmured, her gaze fixed on the intricate pattern of the rug beneath her feet.

As Vincenzo reached for the bathroom door, she added softly, “Thank you for bringing me here. Your family… they’re very kind. I feel like I’ve gotten along with them really well.”

He froze, his hand lingering on the door handle. 

Slowly, he turned to face Anna, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You got along with my family… really?”

His words made her flinch, and her reply stumbled out. “Yes,” she managed. “I—”

Before she could finish, he crossed the room in a single, silent stride.

He stopped just in front of her, looming so close she had to tilt her head back to meet his piercing gaze.

“Don’t you dare claim to get along with my family,” he whispered. “You are nothing but a stranger to them.”

His words sent a sharp sting to Anna’s chest.

She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. They seemed stuck in her throat.

He leaned closer, his body pressing against hers, his lips close to her ear.

She could feel the warmth of his skin and smell the faint, expensive scent of his cologne. 

His warm breath brushed against her ear as he spoke.

“Don’t get too comfortable here, Anna. You mean nothing to me. You’re only here because of my child. Never forget that.”