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𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝𝚎𝚎𝚗 ─ 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚢𝚊𝚛𝚍
I never realized how beautiful Italy could be until I saw the Moretti's vineyard. Imagine rolling hills of green, and orange skies with streaks of purple stretching across them. I was amazed.
The limo pulls around a circle drive to the villa, and large fountain spouts water in the center. I almost fall out of the car because I'm moving so quickly. I boundup the stairs, practically jumping with every step.
Christian smiles, shaking his head in amusement. A few butlers were waiting outside to take our bags which the driver hands off to them. They even open the door for us, and offer us a glass of wine. Who could say no to free wine?
"We'll stay upstairs in one of the guest rooms. There's a couch in there I'll take. I wouldn't want the family being suspicious about why we weren't staying in the same room." He explains. I bite my lip.
"No, you take the bed. This is your villa. I'm the guest here. I'll take the couch."
"This is my parent's villa. I'm also a guest here. I'm not a selfish person. So, I will take the couch."
"I'm not sleeping on the bed then."
"I'm sleeping on the fucking couch, Maria, you're sleeping on the bed. End of discussion." He argues back, and I don't reply. Letting him have this one.
He leads me into the kitchen where an older woman was buzzing back and forth across the large kitchen. Her brown hair was tied back into a bun, strands of gray dispersed across it. She wore a frustrated expression, wrinkles creating creases in her face. She looked like a tough woman who'd been through hell, but was stronger because of it. I immediately liked her.
"Christian! Mio bellissimo nipote!" Her face softens up as we enter the room, the toughness from earlier melting away. (My beautiful nephew!)
She drops what she's doing, comes around the counter, takes Christian's face in her hands, and kisses him on both cheeks. I was beaming.
"Chi è questa bella ragazza che mi hai portato?" She speaks in italian. I'm not sure if she just doesn't know English or she thinks I don't understand what she's saying. (Who is this beautiful girl you brought me?)
"Ciao, nonna." He replies. She did not look like his grandmother, his mother maybe. I can tell she was a very pretty woman back in her day. Looks like good genes ran in the family. (Hello grandmother.)
"This is my girlfriend, Maria." He steps beside me. I smile kindly.
"Ciao, you're so pretty." Her dimpled smile was welcoming and warm, "Nipotino, have you seen your famiglia around? They went out to grab more pomodori from the market." She had a thick Italian accent as if she'd lived here her whole life. She probably had. (Nephew, family)
"No, nonna, we just arrived."
"That's too bad. They should be here soon." She turns to me, "I think they would like you."
"What are you making?" I ask her, peering over her shoulder.
"Ooh, a girl who's mind is on the food. Very good," She walks back to the counter where dough had been rolled out.
I follow her and observe what was going on, "I decided to go a little old school and make a simple pasta. I made spaghetti, and if you don't like that I made lasagna," She laughs at what I assume was a joke, "Right now, I am finishing the breadsticks. They should be done by dinner. One thing you should know about our family is we don't hire cooks. It's against the law. Us Moretti's make our own food."
"I've never had someone cook for me." I say, and she gasps.
"I'm glad to be making your first meal." She looks to Christian who watched us from across the counter, "È molto magra. Non buono mangiatore." She says to him, and I raise my eyebrows. (She is very thin. Not a good eater.)
"Nonna, Maria speaks Italian. She understands."
"Oh, oh!" She turns to me, "Spiacente, Maria." (Sorry)
"It's okay-"
"Nonna. You can call me nonna." She cut me off and I smile at her, "Buono you speak Italian. It makes you one step closer to our family." She looks away from me and starts kneading the dough again, "Not like Adrian's girlfriend. She is very... fastidiosa." (Good, annoying)
"How so?" I ask. Nonna looks at up me, raising an eyebrow.
"She talks too much about herself, and she tries to kiss up to me." She answers, and I look up at Christian. I didn't know what to say. I felt bad for Katelyn, especially because her and Adrian's relationship was actually real.
"Alright, nonna, I think I'll take Maria around to see the room." He holds a hand out to me, and I hesitantly reach to take it.
"Ciao, Maria." Nonna smiles at me before going straight back into her cooking.
Christian led me out of the kitchen, and began showing me around the house. He didn't even let go of my hand which I was sure he was going to do once we left the room. Maybe he was still doing it to keep up the lie with the staff that we saw occasionally in the halls.
"Follow me." He pulls me along, out the villa and into a garden. Everything was perfect. The trees were vibrant and flowers danced around us in every color. In the distance I saw rolling hills of greens, and stars sprinkled the night sky. I haven't seen stars in a very long time.
Christian glanced back at me as he led me to a small patio with a daybed sitting on it. The only light came from a couple candles and fairy lights that hung on the bed frame.
"Are you okay," He asks and clears his throat, "with everything?" I nod.
"I think... it'll all turn out fine." I say, sitting on the edge of the bed, he takes the end, "Your grandmother didn't even suspect a thing."
"I don't like to lie to people. Especially her." He avoids eyes contact with me, and I'm conflicted. The difference between him and I is I had no problem lying to... anyone.
"I know, Christian, but you have to. You don't want to marry a woman you don't even know. That's just wrong..." I grip the sheets, really sitting back and thinking about that. It was a terrible thing. If this didn't work out, Christian's father would marry him off as a business deal.
I couldn't imagine him ever being able to do that. I couldn't imagine him with someone else.
I was disgusted.
"Bloody hell. I'm so sorry." I feel myself falling into pity for him which I knew he'd hate, "That's not... I can't-"
"Hey, if it doesn't work out I'm going to be fine." He reassures me, but I give him a look.
Would he? He'd have to make fake vows. He'd have to have a fake wedding. He'd have to pretend with another woman. Kiss a stranger. Be with a stranger.
"It will work out. I'll never let that happen to you." I reply in a serious voice.
