"Stop."
I turn to see that Luca is already crouching in front of me, one knee on the ground, and before I can process what is happening his hands are at the straps of my heel.
"I can do it myself," I tell him.
He undoes the buckle and eases the shoe off and I feel the relief of it so acutely that I have to press my lips together. He does the second one and then his hands close around my waist and he lifts me, and I make a sound of protest that he ignores completely, and he carries me inside and sets me on the halltable and lifts my foot in both hands and examines the red mark where the strap has been cutting in.
"The shoes were too small," he says.
"I know that."
"You should have said something."
I look away. Out the window, at the wall, at anything that isn't his face bent over my foot in the hallway light.
His hand finds my chin and turns it back to him. "What game are you playing?"
I look at him. His jaw, the bruise forming along it, the green eyes that are very close and very unreadable, have been making me behave like an idiot for weeks.
"I just want my Chinese food," I say.
I slide off the table and my feet hit the cool floor and I walk toward the stairs, slowly, because my feet ache and dignity has a limit.
I don't look back but can feel him watching me all the way up.
* * *
The knock comes when I am sitting cross-legged on the bed with my shoes off and my feet still complaining about the evening.
I open the door.
Renzo is standing in the corridor holding a brown paper bag in each hand.
"Best Chinese in the city," he says, holding them up. "I made sure of it personally."
I step back and let him in and the smell hits me immediately, garlic and ginger and something fried, and my stomach responds with a slightly embarrassing enthusiasm.
"They smell incredible," I tell him.
"Of course they do." He sets them on the table and starts pulling out containers. "I have Michelin star connections."
I sit and pull the first container toward me and look up at him. "When did you get so fond of me?"
He glances at me sideways. "I like brave women." He pulls out a set of chopsticks and hands them across. "Most people pass out at the first sight of a gun. You stood behind me tonight and didn't bat an eye, well until you lost your cool and then I sawyou tap Luca and I realized it was an act." He pauses, warmth moving through his usually guarded expression.
I laugh.
He straightens and tucks his hands into his pockets and looks at me for a moment. "Hang on, alright? You'll be home soon."
I open the container and the steam rises and I look at it for a moment. "Trust me, Renzo, I'm not in a hurry." I glance up at him with a dry smile. "Not when the rewards are this good."
He laughs and points at the bag.
"There's a second container in there, don't let it get cold."
"Thank you," I tell him, and I mean it for more than the food and I think he knows that.
He nods once and walks toward the door and then the door opens before he reaches it. The room goes very still.
