The little Italian restaurant was nothing like the places Valentina had taken her to.
It was warm, dim, and cozy — tucked between two brick buildings with ivy crawling up the walls. The kind of place that smelled like fresh bread and garlic before you even walked in. The tables were close together, the light soft, the chatter lively.
This, Gia thought, felt closer to home.
Adrian held the door open for her, his hand resting lightly at her back as they entered. A hostess guided them to a quiet booth near the window, away from the main crowd.
Gia slid into the seat, fingers brushing over the red-checked tablecloth. "This feels… different."
Adrian gave a small smile as he sat across from her. "I figured you'd like this better than crystal glasses and waiters in gloves."
"You figured right."
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They ordered — pasta for her, steak for him — and for a while, the conversation was easy. Adrian asked about her classes, her favorite books, the places she wanted to see in Philadelphia. Gia laughed more than she had in days, her shoulders slowly unwinding.
But halfway through her plate of spaghetti, she noticed him grow quiet. His fork moved slower. His gaze lingered too long on the table instead of on her.
"Okay," Gia said softly, setting her fork down. "What is it?"
Adrian looked up, caught.
He exhaled. "My father wants you to come to dinner tomorrow night. At the estate."
Gia froze.
Her fingers curled around the edge of the tablecloth as though it might anchor her. Her expression shifted — shock first, then nerves, then something unreadable.
"I…" She swallowed hard. "Dinner? With all of them?"
Adrian nodded, his eyes steady on hers. "Yeah."
Gia leaned back against the booth, her breath shallow. She pictured the long table, the polished silver, Luciano's eyes boring into her like she was an insect under glass. Her stomach turned.
"I don't know if I can do that," she whispered.
Adrian reached across the table, resting his hand gently over hers. His touch was warm. Steady. "You don't have to impress anyone. Not them. Not even me. Just… come. Be yourself. That's enough."
Gia searched his eyes, wanting to believe him.
She wanted to believe that simply being herself could ever be enough in a house like that.
Finally, she let out a shaky laugh. "I'm nervous out of my mind. But… okay. I'll come."
Adrian's shoulders eased, a small smile tugging at his lips. "That's my girl."
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When the check came, Gia barely touched her tiramisu. Her nerves had already filled her stomach.
And as they walked out into the late afternoon sun, the world around her blurred. All she could see was tomorrow night, looming like a stage she wasn't ready to step onto.
But
she had already agreed.
And there was no turning back.