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“Mama, this is—oh my God, I didn’t get your name.”
“Daniella,” I supply. “You can call me Dani.”
“Dani, oh I love that. Mama, this is Ricco’s date, Dani. Dani, this is my mother, Tosca Rossi.”
Ricco’s…date.
That’s one way to put it.
Tosca extends her hand to shake mine, then rises and kisses each of my cheeks. “Welcome. Your first time in Italy?”
“Yes,” I say, biting my lips nervously. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit nervous. I’ve never met Ricco’s family before.”
“Understood,” Marialena says warmly. “But I promise we don’t bite.”
“Or if we do, you’ll like it,” a male voice behind me says.
“Mario!” Marialena snorts and her mother just shakes her head.
A man dressed in a shirt and tie, bearing a resemblance to Ricco but a bit younger, waves to me. “Sorry, she teed it up for me. Nice to meet you,” he says, giving me a wave before he walks back inside.
I blink, a little overwhelmed, but within minutes I’m chatting easily with Marialena. Turns out Marialena has a little girl, too, and she tells me all about the places I might want to go shopping with Emmy.
“What’s Emmy short for?”
“Emmeline, my late husband’s grandmother.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she commiserates, her brows creasing. I stiffen, waiting for the inevitable questions that follow but loathe to answer them.
When did your husband pass?
Was he sick?
He died months ago. Yes, way too soon for me to be dating anyone by traditional standards, but traditional standards can get fucked for reasons that are my own. And no, he wasn’t sick, he fell and suffered a life-ending injury.
No, none of this is suspicious at all.
But another glass of wine and a few more trips to Bella Notte, and maybe I’ll forget everything.
“Dinnertime,” Marialena says. “And I suppose I’ll reluctantly let Ricco have you back.” She winks at me as we walk inside. “But if you want to do some shopping, please let me know. I’d be happy to take you and buy another bag or ten.”
I smile and thank her.
I scan the room and don’t see Ricco. I look back to Marialena, but she’s off toward the kitchen, and her mother’s nowhere to be found. I’m standing in the dining room alone with Adriano.
“Hi,” I say awkwardly. I take out my phone and shoot Ricco a text.
Where are you?
I hear a beep and vibration and see Ricco’s phone on a side table beside a bottle of wine.
Well, that won’t help.
“Do you, um, know where Ricco is?”
Adriano nods. “He had to step out for a minute, but he’ll be right back.”
Huh. Strange. I swallow nervously. “I see.”
“Please,” Adriano says, in a voice that’s cold and hard. “Have a seat.”
I pull out a chair and have a seat.
Where is everyone? Why is it just the two of us in here? It feels at once completely intentional and terrifying, like I’ve been set up, or I’m the unwilling guest in a horror show intro.
“This is odd,” I say under my breath. I look around the room, taking in every detail, such as the bottles of wine resting in large basins of ice.
“What is?” Adriano asks, pouring himself a glass. “And would you like a glass of wine?”
“Just that everyone disappeared all at once,” I say, unsettled. “I thought this was a dinner party. And yes, please. Any kind of white.”
“Do I scare you?” Adriano asks, as he pours my wine.
“No,” I say with a laugh, lying through my teeth. “Of course not.”
He pauses for a beat. “I should try harder.”
Okay, so this is getting creepy.
I take the wine he gives me and eye it suspiciously.
“It’s not poisoned, mia bella. Go ahead, drink.”
I take a gulp and immediately feel better.
“So, tell me about your husband,” Adriano says, as the door opens and Marialena comes in with a tray of food. She nestles it on the table in front of me.
“Where the hell is everyone?” she asks. Relief floods me. At least she’s not doing whatever this guy is doing to me.
“Good question. I can’t even find Ricco,” I tell her.
Adriano shakes his head. “Back in my day, women would’ve loved to have me alone. What has this world come to? Go on, Dani. You were going to tell me about your husband.”
I give him a glance and take another gulp of wine. This time, I smile at him.
“Oh, but I wasn’t, though,” I say sweetly. “I had no intention of saying anything about him. But since you ‘asked’ me so nicely”—I make air quotes, my wine sloshing a little— “my husband was a cheating bastard. His only redeeming quality was that he gave me a beautiful daughter.”
“That is a redeeming quality,” Marialena says hotly. “And I’m with you. Cheating bastards don’t deserve attention, even if they’re dead.”
Adriano eyes me coolly and sips his wine.
“How did you and Ricco meet?” he asks, obviously not ready to let this go.
