He scratches the side of his neck. “If I drop dead tomorrow, maybe I’ll name her Don just to piss off the old men in the business.”
We all laugh. Tomasso’s laugh is the longest, and I don’t miss the way he tries to cover it with a cough. I glance at him, amused. He couldn’t have made it more obvious if he tried.
Business is concluded, small talks done. Elvio bids us farewell with one last handshake and a pat on my shoulder. We step out into the tiled hallway, walking toward the exit.
As we round the corner, Camilla appears, walking towards us, all peach linen and quiet confidence. Her gaze lifts as she catches sight of us, and her eyes flickers. There's a glint of recognition, familiarity, and fondness. But it's aimed at me, not Tomasso. I don’t miss the way her gaze lingers a second longer than it should. Tomasso doesn’t either. I glance at him. The slight downturn of his mouth is swift, but telling.
She comes to a slow stop in front of us, her steps light, deliberate, as though she’s calculating the weight of every movement. Her gaze skips over Tomasso with professional indifference. He attempts a greeting. She glides past it, moving closer to me.
“Giovanni,” she says, brushing her lips against my cheek. Her hand lingers on my arm longer than necessary. “I assume the deal went through?”
I nod once. “It did.”
She hums low in her throat, pleased but not surprised. Her gaze flickers again, as if she’s weighing whether to ask the next question. Then lightly, almost as an afterthought, but I know better, she asks, “And your wife?”
“She’s well,” I say, meaning it.
She hears it in my voice because her smile is stiff as she pulls back. “Goodbye, then,” she says smoothly. She turns on her heel and disappears down the corridor.
Tomasso watches her go, his jaw set, his eyes narrowed just slightly.
In the car, the air is cool, a soft mist clinging to the windows. The sky is a pale silver, heavy with the promise of evening rain. The driver ignites the car, and we head towards home.
Tomasso lights a cigarette, the flare of the match illuminating his face. I know that habit. He only smokes when something sits heavy on him, or when he’s too pleased for words.
I watch the way the smoke curls around his fingers and decide it’s the former. Camilla’s dismissal definitely cut. Before, I'd have jested. But now, I know the taste of love, I understand him, and even sympathize with him.
“You know she’s got a thing for you, right?” he asks suddenly.
I laugh under my breath. “Camilla?”
He flicks ash out the window. “She’s subtle. But it’s there.”
“I’ve known,” I say.
He glances at me. “And?”
I grin. “She’s nothing but a friend.”
I glance at him, unable to resist teasing him. “You’re ruthless in every room we walk into, you're a proper seducer, but tell a girl you like her, and you clam up like a schoolboy.”
He grunts in annoyance. “I’m biding my time,” he mutters. “I want to woo her. Properly. She's not the kind you impress with flowers and a dinner date.”
I lift a brow, chuckling. “And the harem?”
He snorts. “You’re one to talk. Married now. Blind to other women. Never thought I'd see the day.”
I chuckle. “Not denying it.”
He takes a long drag on his cigarette, his face curling into a grin. He flicks ash out the window. “Just don’t hurt Lili, that's all. If you do, I’ll marry her myself. She won’t resist me. I’m as good-looking as you. If not more so.”
I turn to glare at him. “You’re not half as good-looking as me.”
He grins. “Debatable.”
“I’d kill you, but then, I'll let the cigarettes do the job,” I say, half-joking.
We get to the estate, and the gates slide open. Guards nod as we pull into the garage. We climb out. Tomasso stretches, while I glance towards the house, half-expecting Liliana to appear.
