He frowned. “Scusi?”
She threw one hand up in the air as if dismissing him and wrinkled her nose. “Some shock sells but not for a family bakery. Your mama would hate it.”
Coldness rushed through him. “I see. Well, thanks for your opinion, but you really have nothing to do with this. I’ll meet you at home.”
Annoyance flitted across her face. She threw her purse on the table and took out her camera. In typical fashion, his tigrotta marched over to him, stood on tiptoe, and got in his face. “Is that what you do to your sisters when you don’t agree with their opinion? No wonder they walked out. Oh, trust me, I can never forget my place. I don’t want to be involved in this shit, but you keep messing up. For God’s sake, Count, wake up. You treat your sisters with a patronizing air they can’t stand. Julietta is perfectly capable of running the business without you, yet instead of respecting her place, you challenge all of her decisions.”
“Enough.” His brows lowered in a frown. “You have no clue how my sisters feel.”
She laughed without humor. “Are you kidding? It’s crystal clear. They adore you and believe you practically walk on water. They just want some kudos from their big brother. A little respect for what they’ve accomplished. Do you know Venezia believes you think she’s a joke? She may dress celebrities and gain respect in her field, but it means nothing because you don’t acknowledge her success. And Carina? She loves to paint, but you term it a cute little hobby, pat her on the head, and force her to attend business school. She’s got tons of talent and she aches to pursue it, but wants your approval. You’re not seeing her, and the woman she’s becoming. And Julietta keeps fighting the idea she’s an imposter and the business will never truly belong to her. You’ve made her doubt her instincts.”
A muscle ticked in his face. “I respect them and love them more than you know. Dios, they are my life! I sacrificed everything so they can be happy.”
Suddenly, her face softened. “I know,” she whispered. “You’ve done everything a father would have done. You supported them with money, discipline, and good advice. You kept them safe. You made sure they did the right thing and wanted for nothing. But you forgot the most important part. They don’t want a substitute father. They want an older brother who can joke with them, support them, and let them shine. On their own. They don’t need you to take care of them anymore, Michael.” She touched his cheek and tenderness slipped through the cracks and right into his heart. “They just want you to tell them you love them. Exactly the way they are.”
Her words rocked through him and tore down his comfortable blinders.
She held up her camera. “This is what I see for the image of La Dolce Famiglia,” she said. The screen showed the shot of his mother, bowl clasped in her embrace, a dreamy expression on her face in her homey kitchen. “It’s not about sex and food. It’s about this. Her dreams for her family, her determination to be the best, and the quality she strives for every day. That’s what your motto and advertising campaign should be.”
He stared silently at the screen. When he looked up, an array of emotions flickered across her features.
“You’re so lucky to have them. Make a mistake and they’ll forgive you. That’s what family is about.” She trailed off as if thinking about another event. “I don’t belong here, Michael. With you. With them. I can’t do this anymore.”
She turned and fled, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Everything he believed in and worked hard to maintain rose to mock him. His past swam before his eyes, and he tamped down the excruciating pain of failure. His mother’s face stared up at him from the camera. She deserved more than this. She deserved more from him.
He pulled out the leather chair and sat down. Slowly, he clicked past all the photos Maggie had taken since she arrived. They were so much more than pretty landscapes. In each shot, she’d reached something elusive, whether it be a color or shape that struck the onlooker. He watched as his four nephews came into focus, a candid glimpse of grinning, messy, mischievous boys as they mashed clay between their fingers. Slowly, he lay down the camera and faced the truth.
He was falling in love with her.
At the same time, she scared the crap out of him. Maggie wasn’t the woman he’d ever imagined spending his life with. She twisted everything inside of him until he vibrated at a high pitch, and she made the long line of other women he’d taken to bed fade away into nothingness. She was prickly, hardheaded, honest to a fault, and hid a soft center that melted his heart.
The worst of the whole encounter was his realization that she was right.
He hadn’t done his job. Images of his father dying before his eyes tortured him. The guilt of leaving him to pursue his own selfish dreams while his father worked long hours and tried to build a company his children never even believed in.
Emptiness ripped at his gut. But Maggie spoke the truth. Throughout his climb to push the company to the top, he’d refused to see his sisters as equals. In his mind, they reflected the young image of grief-stricken youths in desperate need of protection and stability. Even with his mother’s strength, Michael knew it was up to him to provide and assume a leadership role. So he did. He disciplined, advised, and led.
But he never told them good job. He never told them he loved them. He never listened.
He had done each of them a terrible injustice. He refused to allow Julietta any real rewards for stepping in as CEO. She completed all the menial tasks on a day-to-day basis, yet never retained any glory. He kept all the good stuff for himself like a selfish child and never gave his full support.
With Carina, he was so used to her being the baby of the family, he never thought of asking her what she wanted. He ordered, demanded, and expected. Sure, he knew she liked art, but not until Maggie pointed out her talent did he realize she may have a dream of her own, or even need encouragement to pursue something not business oriented.
But the worst, by far, was Venezia. Shame filled him as the admission rose up inside and choked the air from his lungs. Venezia followed her dream to be a stylist, yet he constantly berated her for not taking responsibility for the family business, and he belittled her choice. Now, he realized why. He was jealous—jealous she was able to go after her dream, yet he’d lost his own. Somehow, he needed to let the anger go. He’d always prided himself on making his own decisions, and quitting racing was his choice. Venezia should not have to pay the price for following her dream, or for the loss of his.