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“As obviously as possible,” I answer immediately. “I want the motherfuckers to know exactly who did it.”
“Got it, boss. We’ll take care of it.”
I wave them off with a satisfied nod and then I start the drive to La Luna. I’ve scarcely put half a mile between myself and the boys before I hear the explosion. The orange rust of fire splinters into the sky and I catch the smoke spirals surging in my rear view mirror.
Death can be beautiful when it wants to be.
I’m a few minutes early to the restaurant. I pick the best table and wait for Wren, conscious of the curious stares cast in my direction. Pretty sure there’s a few surreptitious photos taken of me, too.
Good—let them take their pictures. Let them gossip among themselves. Let word reach Vittorio and Cian if it has to.
I want the whole fucking world to know that Wren is mine.
She appears moments later, wrapped in a silk green dress that doesn’t even bother to hide her baby bump. I can see that she’s taken pains to try, though. I don’t understand why she’s quite so self-conscious. I’ve never seen a pregnant woman more radiant than she is.
I rise and pull out her chair for her. She slips into it nervously, her eyes darting around the restaurant. “This place is amazing.”
I look around absentmindedly, noticing the aura for the first time. The tablecloths are striped in bold black and white lines. The chandeliers are bronze antiques and fresh white gardenias gleam in the centerpiece of every table.
“It tastes even better than it looks,” I assure her as I take my seat.
“Yeah, I know.”
Raising my eyebrows, I look at her questioningly. “You’ve been here before?”
She shrugs as though she’d rather not talk about it. “Um, yeah… William used to bring me here once in a while. They have a private room in the back. I used to think he was just being thoughtful and romantic. It was a while before I figured out that he just didn’t want to be seen in public with me.”
I tuck my hands under the table so she can’t see that they’re balled into fists.
“Sorry,” she mumbles, her cheeks going from subtle pink to dark mauve. “I shouldn’t have brought him up. I keep going down dark roads lately.”
My first instinct is to agree with that sentiment. I don’t even want to be reminded that she had a life before me. That she had other men in her life before me.
Ironic, given that I’m not sure what the fuck we are to each other right now. Reluctant co-parents, yes.
Beyond that…? Hell if I know.
“He was a part of your past,” I manage to say, graciously enough.
Her smile is tentative and shy. “I used to pride myself on not being a cliché. And somehow, I ended up being the girl with daddy issues.”
“Do you have any contact with your father?”
Her eyes bug out in alarm at the mere suggestion. “No. Nor do I want to.” The answer slides off her tongue easily, but it comes too fast for me to trust. She seems to realize the same thing because she blushes and sighs. “I mean, the truth is… I pretend like I don’t give a damn about him—but every once in a while, I do check up on him.”
Her eyes flit from side to side like she’s scared to let them settle on me. “Wren,” I say softly, putting my hand over hers. She freezes, a startled exhale escaping her lips. “Go on. You can tell me things.”
“Can I?” she asks shakily, hiding her self-consciousness behind a laugh. “That’s news.”
“Look at me.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Why?”
“Because whenever I look into your eyes, I end up saying and doing stuff I shouldn’t.” She cringes. “Like that, for example.”
I suppress a weirdly proud grin. “Fine. Let’s return to safer subjects then. What would you like to talk about?”
