Unhinged by his White Heat (Unhinged Erotic Romance Series, Book 1)

Chapter 27

Oliver had not intended to linger in Miami, at the most five days, but the sight of his mother lying in the hospital bed, looking helpless, filled his heart with dread and he had immediately amended his ticket. Now, this was his second week and he still had to stop by New York. Well, he had tried his best to explain the delay to his daughter and girlfriend. That didn't stop Lisa, though, from asking him every day when he would come back.

His mother had returned home. The surgery had gone very well. She would only have to undergo thrice weekly physical therapy sessions with a physical therapist for a couple of months.

He stared across the dining table at her, sitting directly opposite. Now, she looked much better, much stronger. Apart from the few added lines to her face and the faded grey of her once-bright eyes, she was just as he remembered her from his last visit eight months ago. Her thick, black hair was piled back in a neat bun and a dark maroon gown covered her slim frame. She traded a warm, intense smile with her husband, his father, her face luminous.

Oliver's glance shifted to his father, sitting on his left, at the head of the table. Pete Constantino. Former cop and now successful restaurateur. His father wore a pale yellow shirt, buttoned to the neck, the cuffs secured with plain gold cufflinks. The mass of brown hair on his head, above his lips and on his chin, was heavily streaked with gray. Oliver had inherited his wide shoulders and bulky torso, although his father's waist had thickened with age and a more sedate lifestyle.

It had been a longstanding practice in the Constantino household to dress up, as much as possible, for dinner, especially when they had guests. And tonight, they had a guest. One his father had invited. Someone his mother couldn't stand. Someone he thought he would never see again.

Amy.

She sat beside him, on his right, cutting into the roast beef on her plate with her knife and fork.

Oliver kept his face forward, although from the corner of his eyes, he could see her, her dark hair—so much like Lisa's—lying in a long plait down her back.

His eyes narrowed. Who did she think she was? She'd deserted her child, deserted him and now here she was, planning to wheedle her way back into his life. Did she think he would welcome her with arms wide open? If it was up to him, he would have ordered her to stay away from them. He wouldn't have invited her to dinner.

For about three months, she had been pestering his father, begging for news of him, weeping and apologizing for all she had done. His mother had steadfastly refused to allow any contact between Amy and Oliver. It had been inconceivable to her that a mother would dump her child and run off with another man. But his father had a different opinion. To him, Amy was Lisa's mother and for that reason, she deserved at least one more chance to build a relationship with her daughter. Lisa needed her mother.

Oliver didn't agree. He knew Amy well. She was selfish and manipulative. He could bet a thousand dollars that she didn't care a whit about Lisa, she only wanted him back.

Amy chewed and swallowed, then beamed at Leila Constantino. "The food is really good."

Oliver's mother's mouth twitched. She snapped, "I had nothing to do with it." She inclined her head to her husband, "Thank Pete and Oliver. They took care of dinner."

Amy transferred her smile to Oliver's father. Oliver's gaze remained on his potatoes. "It's delicious."

"Thank you, dear." Pete said, ignoring his wife's stern expression.

Silence took over. Leila took a sip of wine, glaring at Amy. Oliver concentrated on his meal, pretending not to notice Amy's longing glances.

Pete dabbed his mouth with a napkin and then placed it back beside his plate. His green eyes pointed at Amy. He said, "Oliver's been showing us photos of his life in Nigeria. There's a lot of Lisa. She looks amazing, beautiful—"