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I swallow hard. I hadn’t been expecting this. Luca said he always does business alone.
“Yes,” I say awkwardly, and hold out my hand for her to shake.
She chuckles and pulls me into a brief hug before pulling away, still smiling.
“I’m Anastasia,” she says. “It’s lovely to meet you. Luca’s in the kitchen. Come, I’ve made stroganoff.”
It smells delicious in the dining room and Anastasia pulls out a seat for me. I sit, clearing my throat. What the hell am I going to do now? I have no reason to kill Mia’s mother, and it seems like an awful thing to do since I’m going to be killing her father, too. I don’t want that.
Luca comes into the kitchen, setting the table. At least he’s sent the staff away, and I don’t have to worry about that. I’ll figure this out. This is my chance, and I’m not going to miss it, no matter how conflicted I feel.
“Will you be joining us for dinner?” I ask Mia’s mother, and the blonde smiles.
Luca finishes setting the table and he puts an arm around his wife, kissing her temple.
“She’ll be going to her sister’s,” Luca says. “Anastasia doesn’t like listening in on business.”
“I wanted to meet you,” she explains.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” I say, doing my best to sound charming and smiling at her.
Anastasia looks at me, something wary in her gaze. “I hope you enjoy dinner, Dante.”
She leaves quietly and I feel slightly exposed and I don’t know why. There’s something suspicious about the way Mia’s mother looked at me, and the feeling that something is off makes me wonder if I should abandon the plan for today.
But then I watch Luca kiss his wife tenderly goodbye, and I think about how my father will never get to do that to Marisa again. How many years he missed out on doing that with my mom. I think about how he’ll never meet his grandchild, and it strengthens my resolve. I’m going to do this. I have to do this.
When Luca walks Anastasia to the door, I take my gun out of the back of my pants, cocking it, covering the sound with a cough, and resting it in my lap.
Luca returns and sits at the head of the table a few feet away. It’s close enough range that I can’t miss. Something in me wants him to admit it, wants him to confess, so I want to engage him in conversation.
“Your wife is very beautiful,” I comment, taking a bite of the stroganoff. It’s rich and heady on my tongue.
“Thank you,” Luca says, smiling.
“You seem to be very happy together.”
“We weren’t always,” he admits, chuckling.
I raise an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
Luca shrugs. “I was young and stupid when we got married. I wanted a wife but just to say that I had one, you know? I wanted to put her on some kind of shelf and forget about her when I had my fun.”
“So, you cheated on her?” I ask point-blank.
Luca sighs. “I did.”
“Was it a mistake?”
“Every single time,” he says quietly. “I lost sight of what was important, didn’t make the right decisions. I got wrapped up in work and the lifestyle and forgot that there was real life to be lived. Real love to be felt.”
“What changed?” I ask curiously. I’ve never heard a wiseguy say that a mistress was a mistake. It seems like it’s a common thread in our lifestyle, and even though I’d never consider it, it’s surprising to hear Luca talking this way.
“Mia,” Luca says with a bright smile. “She was born and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I stayed out all night almost every night, avoided her like the plague. I threw myself into work and women and Anastasia was alone all the time. But then one night, I come home from work and Mia’s walking around. I didn’t even know shecouldwalk. She toddles over to me and takes my thumb in her hand, looking up at me with those big blue eyes just like her mother’s.” Luca’s smile is warm, his eyes dreamy and nostalgic.
He really does love Mia. Guilt washes through me once again, but I push it out of my mind, slowly putting my gun in my hand and pointing it at him under the table. This is the time to do it, while he’s distracted, while he’s reminiscing.
“That was the moment I decided,” Luca says.
