At dinner, Tony and Angela were seated across from one another at the long table, and to Tony's chagrin, Angela was flanked by Matteo and Rosa. Matteo kept the conversation light and lively, asking Angela all manner of questions about American life, food, and culture, which she answered amiably and did her best to resist his flirtatious charms. She had to admit, something about his dark, twinkling eyes and obvious attraction to her was making it increasingly difficult to brush him off politely. And in spite of their discussion, she could feel Tony eyeing Matteo – and her – and yet instead of jealousy, every time she caught his eye she was surprised to see there was something sad, almost defeated about his expression.

Of course she anticipated some awkward moments, but Angela hadn't considered how complicated this trip would feel to them both. Yes, she was technically his date, but no, they weren't dating - and was that even a possibility? Between their kids, her mother, Aunt Rosa, the country of Italy and well, their own heady feelings, it certainly felt like the universe was pushing them together. Yet there was so much at stake –always – with them. It clouded every flirtation, every feeling they had toward one another. Was Tony sensing that the fragile, undefined relationship they had both become so comfortable with was in jeopardy?

Tony was sitting next to Aldo, who was griping at the waitstaff and grumbling about the food being cold.

"Aldo, that's no way to treat your help. They won't respect you."

"Nonsense, it is the only way to earn their respect. You give them a finger, they take an arm."

"Aldo, no way. The way to earn their respect is to listen to them, pay them well. Not bark orders at them like Mussolini."

"And how would you know?"

"I know because this is what I do. And Angela pays me very well, she treats me very well. And I respect her, and as a result, I would do anything she asked of me."

"I say that is a very unusual relationship. That isn't how it works here," he grumbled.

"Well people like to be treated like human beings everywhere, Aldo. And when you treat them like garbage, they give you garbage in return. Try it sometime, it might surprise you," Tony huffed. He added, "Papa would never have stood for treating anyone like that."

Aldo glared at him. "Antony, you will not speak of my brother that way again."

Angela could see Tony was growing increasingly agitated; she wished she was next to him, as she knew she would be able to settle his nerves with just a touch of his arm. Matteo was saving his business talk and was much more interested in learning about America, the unfortunate rise of Pizza Hut, and Madonna.

Rosa pulled Angela's ear down to her level. "I need to - eh, to apologize, Angela. I did not know before that you and Antony are not together. I assumed because the last time he told me you would get married someday, and Maurizio told me also, Antony has those feelings. I thought, oh, I make this romantic! She works very hard. I had Alessandro do the bath, the roses. But Antony, he was so angry. He begged me - he said, 'Rosa, I will sleep anywhere, please, to find me somewhere else. I cannot bear it. You make a huge mistake, Rosa. We are not together.'" She took Angela's hand. "I am very sorry, if I have made your stay uncomfortable. There is nowhere else, the house - it is full."

She wondered what Tony had told Maurizio about his feelings, but then a sinking feeling crept over her as her mind began to race. She knew he'd gone to inquire about the mix-up. But why was Tony was so anxious to flee their situation? Angry, even? Begging her to sleep anywhere else? It wasn't ideal, but she had secretly felt happy with the accidental arrangement, and judging from their connection upstairs, he was too. Was she reading it wrong? Was he afraid he would be pressured into something he didn't want to do out of fear of losing his friend – or worse, his job? She felt like a fool. Maybe he really was intent on keeping this platonic between them. Suddenly, she felt something she didn't expect from Tony - rejection.

She managed a polite, "Please don't worry, Rosa, the room is just lovely. I'm very comfortable. We are okay where we are. And I loved the bath. I thank you so much for including me."

"We are happy you are here. You don't worry about Antony. We have a saying here in Italy: La gatta frettolosa fa i gattini ciechi."

She blinked at her blankly. "What does that mean?"

"It means the hasty cat gives birth to blind kittens," Matteo chimed in.

"Oh..." Angela replied. She turned her perplexed face back to Rosa. "What does that mean?"

Rosa said, "It means, you take it slow, is ok. Sometimes is better that way."

Angela didn't care to argue that she was losing any faith that they were taking anything anywhere, slowly or at any other speed. She turned her attention back to Matteo, suddenly effervescent and fascinated by everything he had to say, carefully avoiding Tony's gaze.

After several long-winded speeches in Italian, Maurizio and Emilia stood up, inviting the guests to do the same. Matteo offered Angela his arm and Tony seethed, at a true disadvantage being on the opposite side, in the middle of a very long table. He struggled to catch up to them walking back to the house.

"Angela, would you care to take a stroll around the grounds?"

Angela replied coolly, "Tony, I promised Matteo we would discuss their business after dinner. Lorenzo is joining us. Feel free to go on up, I'm sure you're very tired. I'll be up in a bit. Don't wait up."

What? Where was this coming from? "Angela, could I see you in the…" Where? He scanned the grounds. "The uh, the pond area for a minute?"

"The 'pond area'?"

"Well there's no kitchen," he growled under his breath. Matteo looked at him quizzically. "I need to talk to you for a minute."

"Okay. Will you excuse me? I'll be back in just a moment."

"Of course. My father brought some papers. He will go get them and then we can look at them together at the table under the pergola."

"Perfect, I'll meet you there."

Tony took her by the elbow and led her over to the pond.

"Just what was that about? One minute I'm the only guy you flirt with and the next you won't even look at me? And now you're ditching me for some Italian guy?"

"You're an Italian guy," she said plainly.

He rolled his eyes. "Thank you for pointing that out."

"Look, Tony, I don't want to go into it. This is business. But even so, we aren't together - we're friends. You don't have any claim over who I become involved with," she lied. Her heart had been his for easily a year.

He recoiled, stung. "But you're my – my date."

"I am. But I certainly wouldn't want you to get the wrong idea about us."

"Well gee. I…what? I didn't. What are you talking about, Angela? Is this because I abandoned you during the happy hour? Believe me, that was not my plan. Maurizio and I got totally hen-pecked for an hour by those blue hairs. I was dying to escape."

"Well you certainly managed to make your exit the second Matteo came on the scene. You nearly sabotaged a multi-million dollar client with your jealous shenanigans." She wasn't even sure what she was saying. She wasn't truly angry about any of this; she was only hurt by what Rosa revealed at dinner, and the rejection she was feeling as a result. He didn't want to be with her, but didn't want her to be with anyone else either? Maybe it was time to show him exactly how much control he had over that.

"Well, I guess you've made your wishes known loud and clear. I'll be going up to our room. Have a wonderful time with Signore Bellavita."

"Thank you, Tony, I will."