Massimo thought back to his terrible dates with Aria. Hadn't she seemed different? Wasn't texting her for a while like texting a completely different person?Later, Aria had managed to mimic Massimo's wife's original text style. But she hadn't started with it. She hadn't sent nearly enough messages
Elena opened the door. She saw Mr. Fabio standing there. His smile was sad and he held a large pile of papers."Mr. Fabio, hello," Elena said. "Why don't you come in for some tea?"She ushered the old man into her home. She slowly readied two cups of tea. After all, Elena knew why Mr. Fabio was here
"I'm not proposing to her," Massimo said firmly. "I'll spend as much time with her as I can, but she's already a married woman.""Haven't you young whipper-snappers raised the divorce rate up higher than the sky?" Fabio questioned. It was a joke—or what passed for a joke by his grandfather's terribl
The next day, Massimo had breakfast with Fabio. He was slightly surprised his grandfather had agreed to meet with him when Massimo called—especially after Massimo clarified it had nothing to do with work.They ate a light meal in silence at the Ferraro estate's dining room. Massimo was regretting di
But most shockingly of all, Massimo didn't complain. He didn't even frown—well, no more than usual. He looked as comfortable sitting in his business class seat as he did sitting in his private jet.Elena didn't comment on any of this though. She didn't want to be rude.But, privately, Elena reflecte
Massimo was shocked. Why were the Conti members suddenly insisting they had to leave? It made no sense."What's going on?" Massimo asked."I can't say," Nico said with a frown. "But personal matters have come up, so we must go home.""Surely you don't all need to leave," Massimo insisted. "Better ye