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I feel like for the first half of the meal, I'm holding my breath.
I wonder if any of them will fuck up the timing again and give away the truth. I hate this.
I also wonder if Dani will say or do something that pushes the others away. It’s true that she doesn't belong in this world, and I fear that something about her honesty and simplicity will make her stand out, and though I don't care if she fits in at all, I do care that no one makes her realize it.
But during the second half of the meal, I breathe a bit easier.
Dani talks easily to anyone and everyone. She chats with Marialena about Tuscan fashion, about raising a daughter in the modern world. She compliments the chef on the food and loves everything that’s served. She holds my hand when people ask me about Martina, and how her family and I do business. I explain how we're friendly, but that it's no more than a business transaction. Dani isn't threatened by the wife that I had, and recognizes that she's a necessary part of my past. She even makes cold-hearted Adriano smile, by regaling him with tales of her learning to swim in the Atlantic Ocean as a child.
By the time dessert is served, and everyone sits around drinking cordials and helping themselves to pastries, Dani leans into me. "We should get home to the kids."
"We should.”
“Ricco, can we talk before you go?” Adriano asks.
“Yeah. Let me talk to Adriano first,” I tell Dani.
We meet in the study. I shove him against the wall. “Sergio make you do that?”
“Yeah, don’t kill the messenger. Let me go, brother.”
With a growl, I let him go, but only until I can actually talk to Sergio.
Adriano shrugs me off. “What do you know about her husband?"
I shake my head. "Nothing. He cheated on her, that's all I know."
"What was he doing at Bella Notte?"
“God if I know. Why?”
“Listen, man. I got a cryptic message, something about staying out of it before more innocents get dragged in. Made no sense, we couldn’t trace it.”
Shit.
“Just a prank?”
“I don’t know,” he says. “You get anything?”
I frown. “No.”
Now I want to get to the kids as much as she does.
I don't tell her about the text until we're back and we've checked in on the kids.
They're tucked safe and sound in their beds, and Dani and I both relax.
"That's the last time we’ll leave them here." I take her to the sitting room and show her the text that Adriano got earlier. She covers her mouth and her eyes water. "Why didn't he tell us?"
"He thought it was a prank. And maybe it is. But now it's time to show you, so I did."
"Ricco…." I know that she's struggling with this. Hell, I'm struggling with this. We can't live our lives worrying about the shadows, worrying about the next attack, but at the same time, I'll never be able to put down my worry about the people I love. It's who I am, and what I do, and, after losing Martina, I won't let something like that happen to someone I love. I can't.
I open my mouth to try to explain this to her, but instead, what comes out is, "I love you."
When she doesn't say the same back, I hold her to me.
"Ricco, I'm scared."
"I know." I swallow hard. "So am I."
"We don't need to rush anything," she says vehemently, holding my gaze.
I’m not sure I agree.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“HAVE YOU SEEN RICCO MONTAVIO?”
Dani
I look up from the endless line of clients and finally catch a breath. It's been a week since we returned from Tuscany, and I'm still waking up in the morning waiting for those glowing sunrises, that toasted crusty bread with a cup of rich, hot coffee, and Ricco’s smile.
But he's gone, traveling for business, and I haven't seen him. And cold Pop-Tarts and Special K greet me instead of the crusty, warm bread from Italy. And my coffee doesn't hold a candle to his.
I miss him. Things were becoming intense, but I liked spending time with him. It felt so right, even with the kids. He's present, and attentive, and even though he works hard, he spends time with his son, with me, with Emmy. Ricco values family, that’s one thing I can't fault him for.
But more than anything, he treasures me. No one’s ever treated me this way before, and it feels so good that I long for him when we're apart.
I throw myself into my work, shrug my shoulders, and stretch. Client after client after client. I have a three-week waiting list at this point, and even Sarah and Jason have begun to beg me to take them on as clients.
"How come you didn't want to book me when I had no customers?" I ask Jason at one point. He waves a hand in my direction.
