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Marta’s right. I am a lucky girl.
25
DANTE
The day off I spend does wonders for my mood, and when Mia comes home, I’ve got dinner set out on the table for her.
“Oh my God,” she says, dropping her purse in the dining room. “It smells so good, Dante.”
“Thank you,” I murmur. “It’s my mother’s recipe. Eggplant parmigiana.”
Mia puts her arms around me, squeezing me tight and kissing me quickly across the lips. “I’m so lucky,” she says against my mouth, and I chuckle.
“Taste it before you say that.”
She laughs and sits down at the table. I sit across from her and push a glass of sparkling cider toward her.
“I know it isn’t wine,” I say apologetically, “but it was the best I could do.”
Mia looks at me, her blue eyes shining. “You really pamper me, Dante.”
I smile. “I do my best.”
I don’t tell her that I’ve never spoiled a woman before, that I’m not the type to do these kinds of thoughtful, romantic things. Something about her brings it out of me. Either that, or I just feel so guilty about what I almost did to her father a few days ago that I want to make up for it.
I still haven’t decided how I’m going to go about exacting my revenge, but I haven’t given it up, yet. I can’t. I think about my father and rage boils in me that’s directed all at Luca Lorenzo.
“Was the changing table delivered today?” she asks.
I shake my head. “Not yet.”
She frowns and I laugh, beginning to eat.
“You know we have quite a few months before the nursery needs to be ready,” I tease her.
“I know, but I want everything to be ready for the baby,” she pouts. “It’s good to be prepared.”
She begins to eat, moaning at the taste. “Dante, this is so good.”
I quirk an eyebrow, heat pooling in my lower stomach. “Hey, you’re supposed to save those sounds for me,” I say in a low tone, and Mia gives me a hot look.
“After all this, you’re definitely going to get lucky,” Mia croons, and I grin.
It’s been too many days since we last made love. Mia looks at me curiously.
“Is that why you did all this? To get lucky?” she jokes.
I shrug. “I mean, it’s definitely a bonus,” I admit. “But I just wanted to do something nice for you. You’ve been so stressed, and now with the baby...stress isn’t good for a pregnancy.”
Mia’s lip trembles. “You’re so sweet, Dante.”
I look away, embarrassed. “I just want you to be happy,” I say honestly.
I compliment Mia on her hair and nails and she tells me all about Marta’s drama with her wiseguy lover, which isn’t really my idea of a fun dinner conversation, but it seems to amuse her. I just watch her talk for a moment, the way she’s animated with her hands, the way her blue eyes sparkle, and my chest feels warm.
I do feel something for her. It’s something strong, and real, and something I’ve never felt for anyone before. But I can’t say that I love her. Not when I’m plotting to kill her father.
“Let’s go out onto the terrace,” I say after we finish up dinner. “Marisa will clean up tomorrow.”
