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He closes his laptop and stands up, addressing me. “All the files are in our shared folder. Later.”
Thane moves toward the door and then turns back to us.
“I have a message from Acid.” Thane glances at Chiara, black hair falling into his eyes and the merest suggestion of a smirk on his lips. He places the toe of one boot behind the other and ducks his head, almost a bow, but not quite. “Good luck, your highness.”
Chiara smiles at him, genuinely amused. “Acid’s so thoughtful. Tell him thank you. And thank you too, Thane. I appreciate all your work.”
Thane scours her expression, searching for sarcasm.
Salvatore folds his arms and glares at him. “Chiara means what she says, unlike you.”
Thane shrugs and heads for the door, raising one hand in farewell before he’s gone.
I turn away with a shake of my head. “I have our disguises upstairs. Come with me.”
I lead the two of them upstairs and unlock the door to my apartment. It takes up the entire top floor of the building. The ceiling is high and there’s plenty of natural light. I’ve decorated it in an eclectic style. Interesting pieces of furniture and décor that don’t match but somehow work together to give the place an air of elegance and comfort.
Chiara gazes around. “Vinicius, your place is amazing. How come I’ve never been here before?”
“It’s not as secure as Lorenzo and Cassius’ place, and it’s not as sprawling as Salvatore’s, but it’s home. I like it.”
“Iloveit,” Chiara says, walking across the open space. I suddenly see her here with a baby. A little boy. They’re sitting together on the rug beneath the huge windows playing with colored blocks.
For a second, I can’t breathe.
I want that.
I want that so much.
It doesn’t have to be my son. It could be any of our sons, and I will love him so fiercely until the day I die. If I can’t have this, then everything else in my life will feel meaningless and I don’t know what I’ll do.
I realize Chiara is staring at me with her head on one side and she’s asked me a question. “Are you all right, Vinicius?”
Salvatore clasps my shoulder as he passes me and shoots me a knowing look. “He just loves you, baby.”
I come back into myself and smile at her. “Have I told you lately how beautiful you are?”
“You probably have, but I’ll happily hear it again,” she says, returning my smile.
“You’re beautiful, kitten. Now come with me and we’ll go play dress-up.”
I have our planned disguises laid out on my dressing table next to my bottles of cologne, and I pass Chiara a wig.
“Try this on. If it suits you, we can tie it back in a low ponytail. These detectives will have seen you with your glorious blonde hair and wearing designer dresses. In a plain skirt suit and with a wig and darkened eyebrows and lashes, they won’t recognize you.”
She scoops up her blonde hair and pulls the wig on. Long, dark brown hair cascades over her shoulders, and with the bangs in her eyes, she looks different already.
“I like it. What are you and Salvatore wearing?”
“Cheap suits. An auburn hair rinse for Salvatore and a mustache for me.”
“Auburn,” Salvatore says with a grimace. “I’ll look washed out.”
“That’s the idea. We want to look like ordinary country cops, not the devilishly handsome city mafiosos that we are.”
I pass Salvatore a box of hair dye and apply a fake mustache to my upper lip. It’s hideous. My hair is too long and I need a haircut, which is on purpose. I want to look like an unkempt country detective. I pull a shoulder holster on over my shirt and muss up my hair.
“What do you think, do I look the part?”
