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We chat idly for a few moments, Luca just sitting there, covered in blood, and I change my shirt before I leave. I keep my shirt crumpled in my hand but Luca stands up and takes it from me.
“I’ll have it dry-cleaned,” he says with a grin.
I realize, belatedly, that he’s making a joke about my dry-cleaning business being destroyed, and I bark out a surprised laugh.
If Luca Lorenzo hadn’t killed my father, I may have liked him.
20
MIA
Ilook at my phone for about the twentieth time since Dante has been gone, my heart pounding in my chest. Has he gone after Vincenzo anyway? After telling me that he wouldn’t? I can’t be sure.
Nico’s still here, so I don’t worry quite as much as I would if he wasn’t. Dante doesn’t do much business without Nico, they’re partners as much as they are friends. But I suppose he could have taken Alberto instead...
I’ve been upstairs, looking around the rooms up there to see which one would be the best nursery, but I decide to go downstairs. Nico is in the kitchen, drinking a beer.
“Nico, I want you to level with me,” I say, trying to keep my tone light.
Nico looks at me, his gaze suspicious. “About what?”
“Is Dante going after Vincenzo Gallo?” I ask, looking him right in the eye.
Nico has absolutely no change in expression. “Not that I know of,” he says easily.
I narrow my eyes. I can’t tell if he’s lying, and I have a lifetime of experience with shut-down wiseguys. Nico must be a hard shell to crack.
“So, why isn’t he home yet?”
Nico shrugs. “Our line of work, sometimes stuff takes a while.”
I open my mouth to argue but then I hear Dante’s key in the front door and I rush into the foyer, looking him over.
He doesn’t appear to be injured, but he looks tired and he has an envelope in his hand.
I soften, realizing that Dante really did just have other business. I almost feel bad for not trusting him. “You look like you had a long day, baby,” I croon, kissing his cheek.
Dante nods, wincing as he puts the envelope in his pocket and takes his suit jacket off. There’s no blood blooming through his shirt, though, so I suppose everything’s okay.
Nico leaves quietly like he does every night when Dante goes home. I’m sure he’s annoyed he gets stuck babysitting me every day, but he has a room here for a reason, and Dante always says he doesn’t mind.
“Let’s go get you a bath,” I suggest, and Dante smiles at me weakly.
I head up the stairs and he follows me more slowly, clearly favoring his injured shoulder. I run the bath and he walks in behind me when it’s half full, undressing and lowering himself into it with a grunt.
I look at the wound on his shoulder and there is some blood soaking through the bandage, but it’s not too bad. At least he hasn’t popped a stitch.
When I remove the bandage, though, it’s red and irritated-looking. I make a displeased sound in the back of my throat.
“Baby,” I say softly, not quite scolding but almost, and Dante smiles sheepishly.
“I still have to go to work,” he explains.
“I know,” I say quickly. “I just wish you could have taken more time off to heal.”
I have thought about how to tell Dante about the baby all day, but right now, Dante needs comfort. He’s had a long day and he’s still injured, and I want to be here for him before stressing him out with my sudden pregnancy.
I take a washcloth and wet it, putting some soap on it before rubbing it across his back.
