Chapter 2 - Meeting the Morettis
By Saturday evening, I had memorized Adrian's favorite wine, his mother's favorite flowers, his sister's dislike of shellfish, and the fact that Adrian refused to discuss his childhood.
I had also learned that pretending to love someone was much harder when that someone already lived inside your thoughts.
The first practice dinner was at Adrian's penthouse.
Sofia arrived first.
She was five years younger than Adrian and somehow managed to be both terrifying and charming.
She looked at me.
Then at Adrian.
Then back at me.
“No.”
Adrian sighed.
“Hello to you too.”
“You don't bring women home.”
“I work here.”
“You know what I mean.”
Sofia pulled me into a hug.
“I'm Sofia.”
“Emily.”
“I know.”
She lowered her voice.
“Are you actually dating my brother?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
She stared.
Then laughed.
“No, seriously.”
Adrian gave her a warning look.
She ignored him.
“Emily has worked for you for two years.”
“I know.”
“You never noticed her?”
“I noticed.”
I looked at Adrian.
His expression remained unreadable.
Sofia smiled slowly.
“Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Dinner was awkward.
Mostly because Adrian kept looking at me.
Not dramatically.
Not obviously.
Just often enough to make me aware of every movement I made.
At one point I reached for the salt.
He passed it before I asked.
I stared.
He raised an eyebrow.
“You always ask for it.”
I whispered, “You're making this too believable.”
He leaned closer.
“I thought that was the point.”
My heart skipped.
His mother arrived at eight.
The moment Elena saw me beside Adrian, her entire expression changed.
“Oh.”
She touched her chest.
“Oh, darling.”
Then she hugged me.
Adrian looked almost uncomfortable.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“You knew her name.”
“Of course I did.”
Elena looked at me.
“You're prettier than his pictures.”
I nearly choked.
Adrian sighed.
“Mom.”
“What? I have eyes.”
Sofia laughed.
During dinner, Elena asked how we met.
I froze.
Adrian answered.
“At work.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That isn't romantic.”
I looked at him.
He looked at me.
Then, because I knew him better than anyone else in that room, I answered.
“He didn't fall in love with me at work.”
Adrian's eyes sharpened.
“He fell in love with me when I quit trying to impress him.”
Silence.
Sofia's mouth fell open.
Elena smiled.
Adrian stared at me.
I continued.
“He once told me I was the only person in the building who didn't treat him like he was frightening.”
Elena looked at her son.
“Is that true?”
Adrian slowly nodded.
“Yes.”
It was the first time I realized that maybe our lie had a dangerous advantage.
I knew the real Adrian.
The one beneath the reputation.
The one who sometimes stayed late in his office because he hated going home to an empty apartment.
The one who kept his mother's handwritten recipes in a drawer.
The one who silently donated money to employees whose families were struggling.
The one who remembered birthdays but pretended he didn't.
By dessert, Elena was convinced.
At least mostly.
Then Luca arrived.
He looked at me.
Then at Adrian.
“Interesting.”
I smiled.
“Hello.”
He kissed the air beside my cheek.
“Luca Moretti.”
“I know.”
He grinned.
“Then you know enough to be careful.”
Adrian's expression hardened.
Luca noticed.
“Oh, relax.”
He dropped into his chair.
“I’m only teasing.”
Dinner resumed.
But something had changed.
Luca kept watching me.
After everyone left, I stood beside the window.
“You don't like him.”
Adrian joined me.
“He doesn't like me either.”
“Why?”
“Family history.”
“You all seem to have a lot of that.”
He smiled faintly.
“That's an understatement.”
I looked at the city.
“Your mother wants grandchildren.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“Please don't tell me she asked you.”
“She asked twice.”
“And?”
“I said we'd discuss it when you were ready.”
He turned to me.
“You said that?”
“You're welcome.”
He laughed softly.
I looked at him.
“You're different with her.”
“With my mother?”
“Yes.”
He looked away.
“She’s the only person who never expected me to become like my father.”
Something about that sentence stayed with me.
The next morning, we went shopping.
Adrian wanted me in something “appropriate.”
I refused to let him choose.
Two hours later, I walked out of a boutique wearing a navy dress that fit perfectly.
Adrian stood outside.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
I folded my arms.
“Well?”
“It works.”
“That's all?”
“It works very well.”
I smiled.
“Better.”
He looked away.
I caught the faintest color at the edge of his ears.
I almost laughed.
“Are you blushing?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
He opened the car door.
“Get in.”
I laughed the entire ride home.
That night, the arrangement became more complicated.
At 10:17, Adrian received a call.
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Where?”
Pause.
“Lock the building.”
He ended the call.
I stood.
“What happened?”
“Nothing.”
“That's your lying voice.”
He stared.
“My lying voice?”
“Yes.”
His mouth twitched.
Then he handed me his phone.
A photograph.
A warehouse.
A man standing outside.
I frowned.
“Who is that?”
“Someone my family used to know.”
“Used to?”
“He's back.”
“Is that dangerous?”
“Yes.”
I looked at him.
“For me?”
His jaw tightened.
“Possibly.”
I swallowed.
“This fake girlfriend thing suddenly feels less fake.”
He stepped closer.
“It was never supposed to put you in danger.”
“You should have told me.”
“I didn't know.”
“That doesn't make me feel better.”
“I know.”
He looked genuinely sorry.
Then he reached for my hand.
Not for the family.
Not for appearances.
For me.
“I'll protect you.”
His fingers closed around mine.
I believed him.
That was my first mistake.
Because the next morning, someone left a note beneath the windshield of my car.
May you like
Stop pretending you're his weakness.
You won't survive the week.
