“Territorial?”

  Possessive. Maybe a bit jealous. But seriously? Damian raised his eyebrows to mirror hers. “He was your backup plan for the Ruby Ball?”

  She lifted her chin. “Nice with the I’m-the-captain-of-industry routine.”

  “Hey, my quick reflexes let him off easy. Think about how much more embarrassing it would have been if he’d kissed you and then realized the guy who’d just spent the night was right behind him.”

  “Uh-huh.” She looked unconvinced.

  There didn’t seem to be any end to the obstacle course that led to Mia’s door. Her brothers, his family, Carl and now Sam. “Clearly he wasn’t watching from the coffee shop window when I kissed you goodbye.”

  Mia’s lips gave a telltale twitch.

  “Might have been nice to be able to compare and contrast,” she mused.

  “Oh, yeah?” he queried, stepping closer. “Maybe my goodbye was too fast.”

  Damian lowered his gaze to her soft, plump lips. So full of promise. Just like last night.

  His mouth was a hair’s breadth from hers when Mia suddenly sprang back.

  “Mom!”

  THIRTEEN

  Mia watched with apprehension—horror?—as her mother, who’d emerged from a cab, was handed her bag by the driver.

  Damian had turned as well, and she could tell that within seconds he too had processed what was happening at the curb.

  She also realized the tableau that she and Damian presented... She’d sprung back from Damian’s kiss, but not before her gaze had connected with her mother’s over his shoulder.

  Now the expressions that flitted across her mother’s face had moved from delight and puzzlement to surprise and concern.

  “It’s only an hour on the shuttle.” Her mother’s tone was mildly reproachful as she came closer.

  “What a...surprise.” It was a feeling very similar to what she’d experienced minutes ago at Sam’s sudden appearance. Mia resisted the urge to pinch herself and make sure she wasn’t dreaming all this.

  Her mother smiled brightly. Too brightly. As if Damian wasn’t standing right there... She set down her overnight bag. “I wanted to come to New York to try some restaurants.”

  Damian smiled. “Of course. How about Per Se?” He nodded at Mia. “I just mentioned making a reservation.”

  Her mother blinked. “I’ve never been, but I want to try it.”

  Mia looked at Damian as if he was crazy, but he winked at her.

  “I know reservations are hard to get, so leave that part to me.”

  Of course. The perks of having an upwards of nine figure bank account.

  She and Damian were taking her mother out to dinner. No way.

  Damian reached down for her mother’s bag. “Since you’re planning to stay with Mia, let me take your bag up for you.”

  Smooth, smooth. Her brother Jordan could take pointers from Damian—even though her sibling had a reputation of gliding instead of walking, on and off the ice.

  Mia stopped an eye roll and reluctantly handed her keys to Damian.

  As Damian stepped away with the bag, Mia caught the bemused expression on her mother’s face.

  “I was thinking Eataly for lunch...” Camilla’s voice trailed off.

  Mia ushered her mother into her work studio and flipped on the lights. The smell of coffee wafted through the air. Mia had loved her mother’s gift of an automatic espresso maker on a timer. She’d come to associate the scent with the start of the workday.

  Before Mia could do more than prepare two demitasse cups, however, the front door to the studio cracked open and Damian’s arm appeared, dangling her keys.

  Mia hurried over to collect them and then shut the door.

  It was nice of Damian not to intrude this time on what promised to be an awkward family conversation. He was learning...and coming along nicely as, yes, boyfriend material.

  She took a deep breath and turned back toward her mother.

  Camilla raised her cup of espresso and took a sip. “At least he doesn’t have the keys to your apartment.”

  Mia raised her hands as if to ward off the reproach. “Mom, I didn’t lie to you about him. Things have recently...changed.”

  “Of course.” Pause. “And the mothers are always the last to know.”

  Mia could practically see the thought bubble above her mother’s head. Et tu, Brute?

  In the longstanding sibling game of making sure their parents got only select, carefully filtered information, she’d been behind...until recently. First, Cole and Marisa had sprung a surprise wedding on the family that they’d billed as only an engagement party. Then Rick and Chiara had been expecting a baby...and her mother had gotten the news through the gossip columns. And finally Jordan and Sera had managed to keep their relationship under wraps from the rest of the Serenghettis—at least until Mia had chanced upon them locked in an embrace at cousin Oliver’s wedding.

  But speaking of relationships... If she was going to legitimize hers with Damian, her mother was the best place to start.

  “I’m confused. The last time you said that you and Damian are not a coppia.”

  When her mother set down her espresso cup, Mia took her hands in her own. “You know how you said that Dad wanted to win you over so he arranged another stay for himself at the albergo?”

  Camilla widened her eyes. “Yes, and I said he stayed at a hotel, not my apartment.”

  “Just an updated version of the same thing, Mom.”

  Camilla sighed and searched her face. “And you have your heart set on him, too? Some things with love don’t change. Doesn’t matter the generation.”

  “Yes.” I love him. Mia tested out the words as she dropped her mother’s hands. She’d fallen in love with Damian Musil. Somehow, she wasn’t sure exactly when, he’d snuck into her heart. Once she’d given up the fight against their attraction after the charity dinner two weeks ago—and stopped trying to keep him at a distance—she’d found a kindred soul.

  Entrepreneur. Maverick. Risk taker. He’d teased and tantalized until she’d engaged...the enemy. Except she’d discovered she much preferred him as her friend and lover.

  Her mother tapped a finger against her lips. “I’ve waited to be mother of the bride. But this is tricky. Una situazione delicata.”

  “Mom,” Mia protested, “Damian hasn’t proposed.”

  Camilla’s eyes gleamed. “He will...or you could.”

  Yes, she could. She’d always prided herself on her forward thinking and independent nature, hadn’t she? On always being able to do what her brothers did—though proposing wasn’t something that had crossed her mind.

  But then she was caught in an uncharacteristic attack of nerves. Because she’d just realized how she felt, but Damian had never indicated—

  “I see the way he looks at you, Mia.”

  Mia cleared her throat. “Yes, well. We’ll see how things go, right?” she said brightly. “In the meantime, how are things with you and Dad? How is the budding sommelier?”

  Her mother suddenly scowled. “The television personality is fine. He wanted to come to New York with me—”

  Ugh. At least it hadn’t been both her parents chancing upon her and Damian outside her door in the early morning.

  “—but then he understood when I suggested a girls’ weekend.”

  Mia bit the inside of her cheek. Her mother had never been like a girlfriend to her—too strict. Still, ever since Mia had turned twenty-five or so, her mother had fancied herself young at heart. “How about we compromise for now and put you in the role of mother of the fashionista? I’ll text Gia. She’d love to see you while you’re in town.”

  * * *

  Some days were harder than others; they just made you want to run out for a margarita. As she surveyed the scraps of fabric and broken thread littering the floor of her design studio, Mia was thankful that at least it was finally Friday.

  Her mother had returned to Welsdale midweek with the unspoken agreement that Camilla would mention nothing about running into Damian—but would nevertheless try to soften her husband and sons’ stance toward Mia’s involvement with a Musil. It had been only her and her mother for dinner at Per Se since Damian had gotten tied up at the office. The two of them had caught up with Gia for lunch the next day.

  But just now, thanks to Katie, Mia was in the midst of sending more samples of her best designs over to Brilliance. And everything was in chaos. She had a call shortly with one of her suppliers so that all her raw material would arrive at the manufacturer at the same time. She was also due to speak with a small West Coast boutique chain that stocked her designs. On top of it, she had a meeting with her accountant tomorrow, for which she hadn’t yet had time to prepare.

  She longed for the days when she could concentrate on sketching and designing—and staring out the window for inspiration. The flow of creative juices had sometimes been slow, but her early career had been very fulfilling. Now, she was juggling more tasks, many of which were business related and not creative.

  She mentally shrugged as she zipped a dress into a garment bag. On the plus side, at least she didn’t have time to dwell on what was happening up in Welsdale—had her mother had a chance to bring up Damian yet?

  Regardless, tonight Mia knew she’d see him. A thrill of anticipation ran up her spine. He was everything she’d been looking for, except she hadn’t known it. And she resolved, whatever happened with her family or his, she wouldn’t let it interfere with their deepening relationship from here on out.

  Sure, it would be great if both the Serenghettis and Musils were on board, but at the end of the day, it was just her and Damian. They had built their own lives in New York, and now they’d become intertwined.

  Of course, Damian hadn’t said he loved her... A touch of doubt crept into the corners of her mind, and she swept it away. They hadn’t talked about commitment even though their relationship was progressing rapidly. Still, it seemed as if they’d known each other forever and a day.

  When her cell phone buzzed, and she noticed it was her mother, she nearly groaned aloud. She’d really like to find out if Camilla had broached the subject of Damian now that she was back in Welsdale, but she had enough to deal with today without adding potentially bad news.

  “Hi, Mom. What’s up?”

  “Mia, my show has been canceled,” Camilla said without preamble, sounding distressed.

  Mia blinked and stilled. “What? How is that possible?”

  “The station has been bought and the new owner wants to take it in a different direction.”

  “Oh, Mom.”

  “The new owner is Damian.”

  “What?” Shock made her voice rise. “Damian?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mom, you must be wrong.” He would have told me. I would have known.

  She hadn’t seen him while her mother had been in town, or since then. He’d been traveling and then having late nights at work. But still, a bombshell like this should have merited at least a phone call.

  “There is no mistake, Mia,” her mother replied, her voice thickening with her Italian accent because she was upset. “Damian owns Alley Kat Media.”

  “But your station in Welsdale is WBEN-TV.”

  “It is owned by Alley Kat Media.”

  Mia groaned. She’d actively avoided asking too many questions about Damian’s association with Larry Bensen, because their two families had been rivals for years and she didn’t want to seem as if she was on a reconnaissance mission to gather information for the Serenghettis.

  Mia closed her eyes on a sigh—hadn’t Larry mentioned being in the television business? But she’d never had occasion to mention her last name to Larry—only to Katie—so he’d never had a chance to make the connection between her and her mother.

  She felt like an idiot for not putting two and two together.

  Mia frowned. It was one thing when Damian’s family was going head-to-head in business with hers. It was another for him to cancel her mother’s cooking show. How could he?

  Mia knew that Flavors of Italy was her mother’s baby. Just like her, Camilla had staked an independent career apart from the family construction business.

  Damian should understand better than most people how important realizing a dream like that was—why didn’t he? Mia had fought so hard to realize her own dreams—she couldn’t bear the idea of Damian stomping on her mother’s. And then...had he done it deliberately to get back at the Serenghettis?

  Her heart squeezed.

  “I have two more episodes to tape,” Camilla said, “and then finito.”

  “You’re not finished, Mom,” Mia reassured her, though her mind was working feverishly. “This is simply the beginning of a new chapter.”

  “Mia, I am past sixty.”

  “Mom, you still have game.”

  “I have what?”

  “This is a temporary setback. I’ll speak to Damian. I’m sure this can all be worked out.”

  There had to be some rational explanation. Because the worst-case scenario was that she’d played into the hands of the Musils in their latest battle against the Serenghettis. She’d helped Damian woo the Bensens—so he could become the new owner of WBEN-TV.

  “Your father is very upset. Wine Breaks with Serg! is canceled, too—”

  “By a Musil.” Mia winced inwardly.

  So much for thinking her family would come around to liking Damian. She’d been naive to think the two of them could put their family histories behind them.

  FOURTEEN

  Mia strode into Damian’s glass-enclosed offices on the twenty-third floor of the pre-war building facing Fifth Avenue. New York’s Flatiron District had been nicknamed Silicon Alley years ago for all the tech companies with headquarters in the neighborhood, and Damian’s company was situated at a marquee address.

  After the call from her mother, she’d restrained herself until after the end of the business day. She’d been busy, of course, but she also didn’t want a full audience of his employees to witness their confrontation. As it was, it was seven in the evening, and there were still several people milling about the cavernous space. It was a tech company, after all, and long hours were fairly standard. Plus, Mia figured they had plenty of contacts on the West Coast in Silicon Valley, where it was still only four in the afternoon. Still, she couldn’t wait forever to get this conversation over with.

  The CyberSilver offices were within walking distance of her studio in the Garment District. Since they lived and worked not too far from each other, she hoped the island of Manhattan was big enough for them not to cross paths after this. But given her recent experiences running into Carl and Sam, she had her doubts.

  Since Damian’s offices were typical for a tech-savvy startup—lots of glass, lots of open space, and lots of windows—it made him easy to spot.

  She’d sent a brief text to say that she was on her way.

  His response had come while she’d been crossing Sixth Avenue. See you soon, babe.

  There hadn’t been an inkling that he had a clue that her world had gone topsy-turvy since they’d seen each other at the beginning of the week. She, on the other hand, was bursting with emotion, wanting answers.

  When she got to the door of his office, Damian looked up, grinned and rose.

  Striding across the carpet, she planted her hands on his desk and leaned forward. “How could you?”

  He glanced down at himself. “What? Wrong T-shirt? Fashion faux pas?”

  When she continued to fix him with a look, he seemed to realize she wasn’t joking.

  “You canceled my mother’s cooking show.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  She straightened, partly mollified. As unbelievable as it seemed, he looked genuinely perplexed. “My mother has a cooking show on WBEN-TV and its sister stations. And because of her, my father also has a gig fronting related short spots called Wine Breaks with Serg! Or should I say had. He’s been informed that he’s kaput, too.”

  Damian’s gaze grew more alert. “You’re not kidding.”

  She pursed her lips. She could see how Damian hadn’t necessarily realized the connection to the Serenghettis from the name Wine Breaks with Serg! but her mother’s show was a different story. “Your lawyers’ due diligence didn’t reveal that Alley Kat broadcasts Flavors of Italy with Camilla Serenghetti?”

  “Some junior lawyer must have drilled down to individual shows, but I only get summaries. Of course, I knew there were cooking shows...and I may have seen a list of programming.” He frowned. “Probably something called Flavors of Italy.”

  “Flavors of Italy is what my mother’s show used to be called, and how it’s still sometimes referred to. But the name got expanded a few years ago to include identifying the host.” Damn it, she was proud of her mother. And it made her so mad that she might have her spatula taken away from her. Especially, Mia admitted, when she herself had inadvertently played a role in bringing the whole thing about.

  Damian sighed and came around his desk. “Mia, I had no idea that your mother had a cooking show on WBEN.”

  She blew a breath—palpable relief coursing through her. “So you won’t be canceling her—them?”

  He hesitated, his face closing. “That’s a business decision. The station is being revamped to focus more on movies and less on original programming.”

  Hold on. She folded her arms.

  “Who produces your mother’s show?”

  “Signa Entertainment.” That much she knew.

  “Yeah, that’s the company that produces a number of shows on WBEN and Alley Kat’s other stations. They’re closing shop due to profitability issues.”

  Mia dropped her arms and raised her chin. “My mother can get another production company. She can even produce it herself. Don’t sidestep the issue.”