“And nothing will. It’s under control.”
“He showed up at the hospital after the fundraiser. He’s been driving that damn motorcycle past her apartment block every morning! Don’t tell me it’s under control.”
I’m sorry… what? He’s been doingwhat?
“He’s trying to provoke you, Piero,” Callum said. “Ignore him. He won’t touch her. It’s all a bluff to weaken you.”
I swallowed, twisting my hands together and stepping back, straight into my father’s drinks cabinet. The glass bottles rattled, and in a miraculous reflex, I caught one before it toppled over.
“Aria?”
I turned slowly to find both men in the doorway staring at me with deep frowns.
“What are you doing in here?”
My mouth dropped open as my brain searched through random survival options. I grabbed the nearest bottle and lifted it. “Oh, I wanted to know if I could borrow this?”
Mypapi’seyebrows tightened. “My whiskey?”
“Yes. I–uh… drank all mine, and I remembered you said you had a new brand that was really good, so I thought I’d try it.”
“I didn’t know you were a whiskey drinker?” Callum smirked, leaning his shoulder against the doorframe.
I wasn’t. I hated the stuff. It tasted of burnt forests and ash. “Just acquired the taste recently.”
He nodded. “You should have said. I have an entire cellar of the finest whiskey at my place. Maybe on our next date, I can show you.”
“Hmmm.” My head was bobbing uncontrollably. “Amazing. It’s a date.”
Why? Why was I like this? I needed a life coach.
“Are you working tomorrow night?”
“I–um.” I glanced at mypapi, who raised one eyebrow—the universal Italian gesture forI’m judging you right now, but carry on. “No, I’m not.”
“Bravo. I would suggest we go out for dinner, but it might be safer to stay indoors at the moment. So, come round at seven?” I nodded, and he flashed me his perfectly white smile. “See you then, Arianna.”
My father shook Callum’s hand and then walked him to the front door as I sank into a dining room chair and lowered my head onto the table. Great. I had a whiskey date with my potential husband, and I’d have to pretend I enjoyed drinking liquid oak for the rest of my life.
When my father reappeared, I sat up straight and watched as he grabbed two tumblers and placed them on the table in front of me. He poured us both a whiskey with an amused smile playing on his lips.
“There you go,luce mia. Enjoy,” he said, clinking his glass against mine and taking a sip. I tentatively lifted mine and did my best not to wince as the burn hit the back of my throat. I failed horrifically.
Papichuckled, sitting down beside me as I shook my head and flapped my hands.
“You don’t fool me,piccolina.So if you’re not here to steal my whiskey, what’s the real reason?”
Placing my hands on the table, I looked at him, chewing my bottom lip. “I just wanted to… talk to you.”
He nodded. “About?”
“Santino Buccini.”
His smile dropped immediately. “What’s wrong? Has something happened? Has he threatened you?”
I shook my head, my heart pounding as I looked down at the table. I wasn’t lying. Santino hadn’t threatened me outright. But… wasn’t that a naïve view? His mere presence in my life was a threat. He was just doing it in a way that would make me seem insane if I told anyone. And frustratingly, every encounter I’d ever had with him had left me feeling… confused. As ridiculous as it sounded, he didn’t scare me. And I couldn’t reconcile the man my father was so fearful of with the same man who was sending me flowers every day or checking if I’d eaten at work.
“Is he really as bad as you say he is? How sure are you that those illegal shipments belonged to him?”
