Rejected by my ex, Claimed by the CEO

Chapter ten

The morning sun poured into my room, casting a warm glow that chased away the remnants of the night’s uncertainties. I sat in bed, stretching and recalling the kiss that lingered on my lips like a dream I didn't want to forget. Today was the day of our shopping expedition, and I couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement mixed with nervous energy.

As I picked out an outfit, I considered how much had changed in such a short time. I slipped on a simple tailored dress that hugged my figure in all the right places and, after some deliberation, decided on a light jacket. I wanted to impress Gino, but more importantly, I wanted to feel confident.

"Wow, you look stunning. I might have to keep you around as my fake wife a little longer," Gino teased.

I laughed, feeling my cheeks blush. "Well, I'm glad to hear that because I'm still trying to find the perfect outfit to impress your family later."

“Trust me, with you as my date, I'm pretty sure my parents will love you,” he said, opening the door wider for me to enter. “Plus, we’re getting you something spectacular today to make you feel as good as you look.”

The two of us headed out into the bustling city streets. The atmosphere was vibrant, with the sounds of street vendors and musicians filling the air. As we meandered through shops, Gino's playful nature came alive. He suggested ridiculous outfits for me to try, from flamboyant hats to sparkly shoes, each idea more outrageous than the last.

"Okay, but seriously—what about this?" I held up a classic black dress that looked elegant yet effortless.

Gino stepped back and pretended to faint from the sheer beauty of it. "Perfect! Now you need a crown because you'll be queen for the evening!"

I laughed again, feeling more and more at ease with him. We spent hours wandering through boutiques, delighting in each other's company and conversing lightheartedly. I admired how he knew how to make me smile, even when I was unsure of myself.

After a while, we found ourselves in a cosy café, sharing pastries and sipping coffee. I gave him a playful nudge as we sat in a corner booth. “So, what were your parents like when you were a kid? Any embarrassing stories?”

He chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Let’s see… I remember when my mother made me wear that awful plaid suit to a family reunion. I felt like a miniature dad, and my cousins teased me mercilessly.”

I found myself leaning closer, enjoying the glimpse of his life beyond what I had seen. "You have to promise to show me the pictures someday."

“Only if you share your most embarrassing moment first,” he countered, a mischievous glint in his eye.

I thought for a moment, then reluctantly revealed a story from my high school prom: I slipped in my heels and fell into the punch bowl, staining my dress pink. Gino burst into laughter, and soon, I joined him, the sound echoing comfortably in the cafe.

Eventually, with a stunning dress, we chose an accessory at a boutique that gleamed with statement jewellery. Gino gave me a knowing look as I splurged on earrings that sparkled like stars.

“They’re perfect,” he said as I examined myself in the mirror. “Just like you. No one will be able to take their eyes off you tonight.”

The weight of his compliment settled deep in my heart, and for a brief moment, I felt a flicker of something profound building between us. Picking the perfect outfit was one thing, but our forged connection felt like a real achievement.

As we left the boutique, I noticed the sky change from bright blue to golden hues, the setting sun casting a warm glow around us. I took a deep breath, the air filled with excitement for the night ahead and a lingering apprehension.

“Are you ready for dinner?” I asked, glancing up at him.

Gino’s expression turned serious, yet his eyes sparkled with warmth. "Ready as I’ll ever be. My family is a bit overwhelming, but they’ll love you.”

We made our way toward the family home, my stomach tied in knots as we drove through the city. What if they didn’t like me? As those thoughts raced through my mind, Gino gripped my hand tightly, grounding me.

“Just be yourself,” he encouraged, glancing sideways at me. “That’s all they want.”

As we approached his parents' beautiful suburban home, I realised the night's stakes were higher than I’d initially thought. Gino parked the car, and I took a moment to steady my breath.

“Ready?” he asked, meeting my gaze.

“Ready,” I replied, though my heart raced.

The door opened just as I was about to knock, and a woman with kind eyes and warm laughter greeted us.

“Gino! You made it!” she exclaimed, pulling him into a tight embrace before noticing me. “And you must be Harriet! Welcome! We’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

With Gino's hand at the small of my back, guiding me forward, I stepped into the warmth of his family’s home, ready to embrace whatever was to come.

As I crossed the threshold into Gino's family home, I was immediately enveloped in the enchanting aroma of Italian cuisine—herbs, garlic, and something sweet wafting from the kitchen. Gino’s mother, a petite woman with a welcoming smile, ushered us into the living room, where family photos adorned the walls, telling stories of laughter and cherished memories.

“Please, make yourselves comfortable!” she insisted, gesturing to a plush couch as Gino led me over. I sat down, trying to exude confidence, while Gino sat beside me, visibly relaxed despite the impending dinner.

As his mother beamed at me, a warmth spread through my cheeks. “Oh, I already love her!” she replied, brushing away a stray hair that had fallen into her eyes. Anyone who can handle Gino is already a winner in my book.”

I laughed, feeling the tension in my shoulders start to ease. “I’m just trying to keep up with him,” I joked.

At that moment, Gino’s father entered the room, his arms wide open. “Ah, my son! And this must be the lovely Harriet!” he exclaimed, wrapping me in a gentle embrace. The warmth of his welcome felt genuine, and I hoped I could win them over as I took my seat next to Gino.

The family dynamic became clear to me as we exchanged stories over dinner. Gino's parents teased him about his childhood, pulling out embarrassing anecdotes like when he tried to impress a girl by performing magic tricks and spilling punch all over himself. Each laugh added to the comforting atmosphere, and I felt myself relaxing more with every passing moment.

“So, Harriet,” Gino’s mother said, leaning in. “What do you do? What’s your story?”