OLIVIA

I arranged my dress over my thighs as I stood awkwardly in the doorway waiting for Davie's aunt. My heart was beating in anticipation, and I was feeling so nervous. Meeting people and being charming had become kind of my thing in New York. I was familiar to working in my father's company, and he often carried me along for interviews and PR events.

I had no idea why I should be so worried about impressing Davie aunt and making her like me. It wasn't as though I even liked him. But, I knew from the change in his appearance these past few hours that she obviously meant the world to him, and he was keen to protect her and make her happy.

From what he told me earlier, she believed we'd had a lovely romance and got married because we were madly in love.

She had been on a month long medical conference with her colleagues. Which she couldn't avoid because it was too important, and the manpower currently wasn't enough. So she had to go through the whole conference and take up a few pointers. Davie's father, Luco, had to ensure his sister had a safe trip and enjoyed every bit of the conference, to ensure his sister was out of the way when her only nephew got married. This was in case she doubted and became suspicious and asked too many awkward and hard questions about our relationship. But, now that Davie and I were married, there wasn't much that she could do about it.

I wondered how we'd manage to convince her that we were happily married newlyweds, when we had barely said a dozen civil words to each other in the past three weeks.

I was willing to give it a try, and maybe I could even have a little fun and relaxation while I was doing it?

Furthermore, I watched as Davie walked up them to the car park with his aunt, her arm linked through his and a wide smile on her face.

Emily Montanelli was a dashing, beautiful woman. I knew that she was in her forties, but she could have easily passed for a woman eight years younger. Her dark hair was swept up into an elegant bun, and she wore a simple, yet clearly expensive Chanel dress.

I looked down at my attire. I'd chosen a simple light purple wrap dress that suited my skin tone and emphasized my curvier figure.

Likewise, I blinked as they came nearer. What if she didn't like me?

What if she were one of those mother figures who never thought anyone was good enough for her nephew?

What if she didn't like my skin type or hair?

What if she didn't like me because I didn't have the Italian look?

Why the hell did I even care?

Zia, this is Olivia, Davie said when they both got to me.

I emerged out, "Greetings, Emily. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," I greeted, a grin adorning my face.

She assessed me with a discerning gaze, and I steeled myself for a potential challenge. "Ah, so you're the enchantress who has captivated my nephew's affections?" she remarked, her countenance transforming into a radiant smile as she extended her arms in welcome.

Approaching her, I was enveloped in the embrace of her exquisite fragrance as she tenderly kissed each of my cheeks.

Stepping back, she regarded me once more. "Please, call me Zia," it means aunty in Italian she insisted, her smile tinged with what seemed like tears glistening in her eyes.

"Zia," I echoed, reciprocating her smile. "Shall we retire indoors? I've just brewed a fresh pot of coffee, and I also prepared Arancini, caprese salad, frittata, Taralli and Grilled veggies, I prepared everything Italian I could think of, I gulp and smiled hoping she liked it."

"Hmm mm, sounds delightful," she replied, intertwining her arm with mine.

Catching Davie's approving glance, I nodded before we all proceeded into the warmth of the house.

A few hours later, the three of us found ourselves nestled in the garden, basking in the afterglow of a delightful lunch. Emily had complimented my cooking skills so well, I considered cooking often, she also shared an enchanting tapestry of tales from Davie's childhood, punctuated by his playful eye rolls and gentle reprimands for the more embarrassing anecdotes. Yet, amidst the laughter, I glimpsed a side of him that I found utterly endearing, a facet I yearned to explore further.

In our charade of an enamored duo, Davie and I danced the delicate waltz of flirtation, each exchange igniting sparks of anticipation. As he emerged from the house bearing a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice. I couldn't resist the urge to trail my fingertips along his arm, savoring the warmth of his touch and also making sure our acting was perfect. His reaction was palpable, a subtle tension beneath the surface that I suppressed with a mischievous smile.

Thank you, Davie, I said, meeting his gaze with an affectionate smile.

A flicker of irritation crossed his features before yielding to a practiced facade of amiability.

"You two are positively made for each other," Emily exclaimed, her hands clasped in delight. Though I must confess, Davie, I am still a little disappointed, I couldn't attend your wedding.

"Zia, I've apologized profusely," Davie interjected, a hint of exasperation coloring his tone.

Earlier, within the confines of the house, Emily had subjected her nephew to a relentless interrogation regarding our relationship and covert wedding, a spectacle that tested my resolve to maintain composure.

"And so have I, Zia," I interjected, casting an affectionate smile in Davie's direction. But our love simply couldn't seem to wait anymore, could it, my Davie?

Caught in the intensity of his gaze, I pondered the mischief brewing behind his grin.

"No it couldn't," he nodded, leaning in to kiss my forehead, a kiss a testament to the boundless depths of our so-called affection.

So I surrendered and closed my eyes, feeling a jolt of warmth and pleasure. Opening my eyes, I remembered Emily was sitting right there, and I couldn't help but blush at the realization of Emily's presence.

With a soft laugh, Emily acknowledged the fervent nature of Montanelli men, her understanding gaze brimming with warmth and acceptance. "Montanelli men have always possessed a fiery spirit," she remarked, her tone infused with affection.

Davie reassured Emily with a smile, taking his place beside her.

Her words of approval washed over us, filling the air with a sense of contentment. "Olivia is a radiant addition to your life, my boy. I am overjoyed to see you've found someone to share your journey with," she expressed, her pride evident in her words.

With a tender gesture, Davie kissed his aunt's hand, a silent vow of devotion. "You needn't worry about me, Zia."

Emily's hand found its way to mine, a symbol of unity and acceptance. "With Olivia by your side, my concerns are eased," she declared, her words carrying the weight of a mother's love.

Though a pang of guilt tugged at my conscience for deceiving this gracious woman, I found solace in the belief that our facade brought her comfort and reassurance. And, I suppose, her believing that he was happy and in love brought her comfort when she lived far from him.

I will take care of him, Emily, I promise, I said and at that moment, I hoped I would!