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“Where?” she asked.
“We’re going to see Sergio. It’s been too long since I went there.”
She frowned and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain in the car on the way over. Go on, get dressed. I’ll wait downstairs.”
She didn’t say anything for a long moment until she sighed and nodded. “Fine. I trust you.”
“Good.” I left her room and shut the door behind me.
I wasn’t going to let Vlas scare me. The bastard could throw whatever he wanted at me, I’d break him and protect my Aida, no matter what he did.
And the first step toward that was to simply live my life the way I wanted to, regardless of what that bastard was willing to do.20AidaWe parked down the block from Sergio. Dante wore one of his good suits, his hair pushed back, a little stubble on his chin from the night before. He moved a little gingerly, and I could tell he was still in pain.
He probably should’ve been in bed, not back in the city. But that didn’t seem to matter to him. He got out of the car, walked around to my side, and helped me out.
Another SUV drove past slowly as we headed down the sidewalk. I didn’t recognize the guy driving, but he nodded at Dante, who nodded right back. I stepped over a crack and leaned against him before slipping my hand into his.
“So,” I said. “You’ve been quiet. And you said you’d explain.”
He smiled a little. “I did.”
“Are you going to?”
“Yes, but I want Sergio to hear me too.”
I laughed. “Of course.”
He squeezed my hand and dropped it as we reached the bakery. He pushed the door open and stepped inside. It wasn’t crowded since the place had just opened, but there were a couple young guys sitting at the tables with their MacBooks out. The room smelled like coffee and bread, and a huge smile spread across my face. It felt like I hadn’t been in there in a long time, and I actually sort of missed it.
Dante walked to the counter and leaned against it. A young guy was working this morning and I didn’t recognize him. He was just a kid, dark hair, round baby face, wore jeans and a button-down black shirt tucked in.
“You new?” Dante asked.
He nodded. “Uh, Sergio hired me. I’m Marco, his nephew. Well, I’m his cousin’s kid, but I just call him uncle.”
“Do you know who I am?”
He nodded again, eyes wide. “Uh, you’re Mr. Dante.”
“Good. But just call me Dante.” He smiled at the kid and nodded at me. “That’s Aida. You mind getting her a coffee?”
“Sure, yeah. No problem.”
“And whatever else she wants.”
He nodded. “Whatever she wants.”
Dante winked at me then walked to the doors that led into the kitchen and disappeared through them. I smiled at Marco and he seemed frozen in place, like the fear wouldn’t let him move.
“It’s okay,” I said. “He’s not that scary.” I laughed a little. “Okay, he’s scary, but you’re on his side. So you’re fine.”
He nodded twice then turned away and ran over to the coffee machine. I smiled and leaned over to the counter to watch him. He made the coffee with quick practiced motions, and I wondered how long ago Sergio had hired him. Probably right after Dante got attacked that morning, probably needed someone to come in and do the opening stuff that we weren’t doing anymore.
Poor Sergio. I hadn’t thought about him in all this.
Marco returned with my coffee and I took it.
“Do you want anything else?” he asked. “The, uh, pastries are good. Uncle lets me have some after we close since they’ll go to waste anyway.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “How old are you, Marco?”
“Sixteen,” he said.
“That’s a good age. Listen, you’re not interested in your uncle’s business, are you?”
He hesitated. “Baking bread?”
I grinned. “Sure, baking bread.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Uncle gets up pretty early.”
“Baking is a good job. You should learn all you can from him.”
“I don’t know,” he said again. “Maybe… I could learn from Mr. Dante.”
I sighed. “Now that’s exactly what I want you to avoid, okay?”
Before I could do more to warn the kid off, the doors to the kitchen opened and the smell of fresh dough and bread came wafting out. Dante nodded to me and gestured.
“Come on,” he said.
“Thanks for the coffee, Marco.” I smiled at him and followed Dante back into the kitchen.
Stainless-steel tables with wooden tops and gleaming counters greeted me. Sergio was standing at a station toward the back, cutting big chunks out of a larger bit of dough. He rolled the chunks, shaped them in the flour, then put them onto a baking pan. When the pan was full, he set it aside, and began the process again.
“Good of you two to come visit me,” Sergio grunted.
“Nice to see you too, Sergio. I’m glad you’re still busy.”
