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"When do you go?"
He sighs, and I notice how his shoulders sag, even as he holds me against him.
"I leave tonight. Marco will sleep on the plane, and we’ll wake up in Italy."
I think about Emmy, I think about my job. I think about Sarah, and my promise to myself, the promise that seems so far away right now, to investigate Bella Notte and find out what actually happened to Nick. But except for my family, I don't want any of the rest of that now.
"So you're related to the Rossis."
He gives me a curious look and nods. "Yeah."
"I guess that means you're rich."
He gives me a smile and that makes him look almost boyish. "Yeah," he repeats, obviously wondering where I'm going with this.
I wave my hand in the air. "I don't need your money."
He laughs and chucks a thumb under my chin. "I know you don't." There’s a pause, and he seems to be thinking something through before he continues. “Come with me, Dani. I want you there.”
I blink. “Me?”
“You and Emmy. Come to Italy with me.”
Come to Italy?
It's a brief statement, a bold move, and I hold my breath and think of my options.
“You want me to go with you?” My voice is tremulous. Disbelieving.
Italy?
"Daniella." He cups my cheek, holding my gaze. "I want you to come with me and Marco.”
I lick my lips. “I’d…I’d like that.”
His mouth is on mine. The kiss is at once bruising, punishing, and I make a low sound deep in my throat, aroused beyond measure at the possessive touch.
“God, have no idea what that means to me. Go home and pack your bags."
Everything happens so fast, I can barely keep up.
Who am I? What am I doing? I'm not the kind of person that makes impulsive decisions like this, but the thought of him gone for who knows how long… The thought of being alone with him in Italy, away from the shop and away from Bella Notte, away from my home and his, away from the memories and ghosts, is so compelling. In a place that’s new, maybe even exotic. I don't even know what part of Italy we’re going to.
When I pull up to my house with Emmy, my sister’s waiting for me there, thank God.
"Okay, so obviously you need to bring your thongs." Sarah stands in front of my closet with a stern look of disapproval on her face. She shakes her head. "Why do you keep doing this to me, Dani?"
"Nobody's doing anything to you."
"You keep putting me in these positions where I need to make a decision on your clothing that is less than ideal," she says tightly. "Obviously we need to make a trip to Victoria's Secret.”
I snort-cough, "Overpriced."
She shakes her head. "You're dating a rich mafia guy. He can afford a couple of overpriced lacy things."
"I'm not having him buy my underwear for me! I don’t care if he’s a gazillionaire.”
She turns and narrows one eye at me while quirking a brow. "Hundred bucks says you come home with Italian lingerie."
I guffaw and shake my head. "Who do you think I am? I'm not coming home with Italian lingerie!"
"You so are. And I know exactly who you are. You are someone who’s smitten with an Italian hottie. A dangerous Italian hottie. A badass Italian hottie."
My mouth goes dry and I swallow, because this is so totally true.
"Sarah, what am I doing?" I whisper. She turns, faces me, and grabs me by the shoulders. She looks deeply into my eyes, and her own water with intensity.
“Daniella Martinelli, you are the best damn mother I know, and you’ve suffered more than any woman of your age should suffer. You made a mistake and married a jerk, and now by some crazy stroke of luck, that jerk has died."
“Sarah!"
She waves her hand, dismissing anything I may protest. "There is no universe that’s going to strike me dead with lightning because I said it was a good stroke of luck that your cheating, jerk-off of a husband died and left you some life insurance. Yeah, maybe he only had that life insurance because he happened to have a good employer. Who the fuck cares?"
But I know what’s really holding me back. I'm getting in way too deep with a man I hardly know.
"Babe. You said he's your dream man. You've manifested him out of thin air."
"That's not possible."
"For once, will you stop thinking with your head?"
I throw my hands up in the air. "What am I supposed to be thinking with?"
"Your heart. Your emotions. Your dreams."
"That doesn't even make sense. And that sounds like terrible advice."
"Dani, Ricco cares about you. I don't give a flying fuck if he decides he's going to open up a casino in the middle of the ocean, or whatever the fuck he’s going to… trade… like guns or whatever. He likes you. He's going to take care of you and protect you. Is he kind to Emmy too?” I nod. “That's what matters,” she continues. “You’re a smart woman and a great mom. You wouldn't be with him if you knew this wasn't right."
