“Great.” She pointed to the shelf above. “Then you can get that one for me, because I’m five-one and gravity has been trying to murder me since birth.”
My eyes flicked to the book she meant.
“I’ve wanted it for the past hour,” she added. “You get the high shelf. I get the low shelf. Everybody wins.”
There was no pity in her voice. No soft carefulness either. Just blunt practicality.
Which unsettled me more than it should have.
Or maybe less. I couldn’t tell.
I took the book from her hand.
I should have left it at that.
Instead, I heard myself say, “Do you barter with strangers in the library often, or am I getting special treatment…?”
I let the question trail just enough to invite a name.
“Emily,” she said with a small shrug. “And only with the tall, grumpy ones.” Her gaze settled pointedly to the shelf above me. “Can I have my book now?”
“I’m Pietro.”
I reached up, pulled the book free, and handed it to her.
“Efficient,” she said, taking it from my hand.
“I do my best.”
I glanced at the title.Late Medieval Succession Disputes.
I nearly smiled.
She returned to the table, and I was halfway back to my own seat when I remembered I was not alone.
Olivero sat two tables away, loyal as ever and no doubt already compiling a report in his head for my father. I shot him a look. He only raised an eyebrow before returning his attention to his phone.
How much did I want to bet Emily’s name was already being fed into a system somewhere?
When I sat back down, she was chewing lightly on the end of her pen, frowning at something she’d written.
“You’re studying history,” I said.
She looked up. “Doing my PhD in it.”
That explained the stacks.
“I haven’t seen you here before.”
One corner of her mouth lifted. “I’m not that remarkable.”
“Yes you are,” I said. “Trust me.”
The color that rose in her cheeks pleased me.
I wasn’t known for charm. Not like my father. Not like some of the other men in the famiglia who could flirt as easily as they breathed. I’d never cared enough to learn. Most of the attention I got back home had far less to do with me than with my name, my bloodline, and what both represented.
Emily, on the other hand, had no idea who I was.
