Baby Mine - Tressie Lockwood Page 0,1

Italy. These people, while they spoke clear enough, still held what she called that sing-songy way of speaking, which she’d fallen in love with while in their native country. What did threaten to steal her resolve was knowing they were related to Renzo. His last name was Mariani. She’d known this was his house, but to come face-to-face with confirmation made her nervous.

“I’m Jada. Nice to meet you.” She paused, waiting for them to recognize her name, but no expressions of shock met her gaze. She should have known better. While she searched her mind for a way to escape in favor of the letter or phone call idea, another family member appeared on the scene. Rapid-fire Italian fell from the lips of an older, diminutive woman.

“Yes, of course, Mamma. We’re coming,” Ettore told her.

Zita finished descending the stairs, and the old woman turned to Jada. “Welcome,” she said in heavily accented English. “You must join us for dinner.”

Jada’s mouth fell open. She was a stranger, and the woman didn’t know why she was there. “Um, I just need to call a taxi, if you don’t mind. I can use my cell phone, but if I can wait out of the rain for a little bit, that would be great. Thank you so much.”

The little woman took her arm and all but dragged her toward a hallway off the stairs. She spoke half in English, half in Italian. Jada picked up only a few words, and neither Ettore nor his sister bothered to explain. As they neared what she assumed would be the dining room, the scent of food stirred her hunger. That was one of the drawbacks of her condition, constantly wanting to eat. Then again, it could be psychological. She hadn’t bothered to examine the desire up until now.

Before she knew it, she sat at a dinner table with a family of strangers. No one stirred to either pray over the food or eat. Jada studied each person in silence, formulating a plan. Just when she noticed the two empty place settings, one at the head of the table, the presence in the doorway drew her attention.

“Jada?”

With that one word, uttered with the Italian lilt and his deep tone, chills raced over her spine, and goose bumps rose on her arms. She turned her gaze from the table to lock with his. In that moment, he spirited away all the air in the room. Her heart beat a tattoo against her ribcage, her mouth went from dry to moist and back again, and her head spun with memories of herself locked in this man’s embrace while he did things to her body no other man had ever done. How the hell had she walked away from him two weeks ago?

Jade cleared her throat and smiled. “Hello, Renzo. How are you?”

His dark brows rose over silver eyes that had made her turn to liquid from day one. “I didn’t expect to see you again.”

All conversation around them stopped, and gazes swung back and forth from her to Renzo. Jada shifted in her seat. She noted the curious glances, the speculation about why a black woman Renzo obviously knew sat at their table like she was no more than a lost tourist. That was their mistake, not mine.

Even as she processed these thoughts, she recalled a previous one. There’d been two leftover place settings. Heels clicked in the hallway behind Renzo, and a petite hand circled around his bicep before one of the most beautiful women Jada had ever seen appeared. Fiery red hair as glorious as a lion’s mane accentuated her fragile figure. The way the little beauty clung to Renzo’s side, there was no way she was another sister. Jada clenched her teeth. She’d messed up. Not once had she considered whether Renzo was married. She’d wanted to see him again.

She scraped her chair back and stood. Her cloth napkin fluttered to the floor, and Ettore bent to pick it up. She snatched at the square of material with muttered thanks, not wanting any of them to see how her hands shook. “Um, I think I need to go. Thank you for your hospitality.” She smiled at the family, not pausing to focus on any of them.

Halfway to the door, she stumbled when Renzo’s deep voice rang out. “Everyone, please don’t hold dinner for me. Jada and I will be in my office.”

“But, Renzo,” the redhead whined. “Who is she?”

Renzo reached Jada’s side and took her arm much