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“Oh, he shouldn’t have. I could’ve taken a cab.”
I admire the Santa Maria morning sky as we land. It’s like I’ve been in a dream, and my dream seems to continue when I see a guy in front of a limousine waving at me. “Hey, I’m Rob, but you can call me Robby so you don’t get confused,” he says.
It’s only a ten-minute ride from the airport to my house. Why the hell did this guy pick me up in a shiny black Mercedes Pullman?
“This is very… um… extravagant,” I comment as I hop in.
“Well, my other car is in the garage, thanks to Rob. Apparently he was t-boned by someone last night while he was driving it.”
“Ergh, I was responsible for that,” I say. “He tried to stop someone who was stealing my necklace.”
“Oh… so he was telling me the truth!”
Heads turn as the limousine tears through the streets of Santa Maria, maybe thinking the Kardashians are in town. When the over-the-top ride finally ends, I find Mama gaping. “It looks like you just came back from a bachelorette party.”
I toss her a hopeless stare.
“Where’s Rob?” she asks as I make my way into the living room.
“He stayed in LA. His brother is still in the hospital.”
“Piccolo mio,” Mama says dolefully, obviously contemplating Matty. Then she angles toward me with a bit more enthusiasm. “Are you hungry?”
I look at the time. A couple of hours before I have to open Amber The Mender. Much as I want that frittata Mama has made, and to start looking up Rob Hartley, as soon as I get to my room, I crash.
* * *
“You’re mine, Amalia. Mine!”Aidan’s voice oozes from his abhorrent face. Right then my boyfriend takes me by the hair, and in between blood streaming everywhere, I feel metal pummeling my mouth. Then my cheeks, and finally my nose.
“Jesus!” I murmur as I sit up in my bed, woken only because Mama drops something in the kitchen.
I turn lazily to look at the time. “Shit!” Grabbing whatever is at the top of my shirt and jeans piles, I get dressed without even checking whether the clothes are ironed or not. My fancy Tissot watch is still with the Santa Maria Police, but thank goodness it wasn’t my smartwatch that the asshole tried to steal last night. I can’t function without it. As for the necklace—I smile, looking down at my chest—Rob’s gold chain feels just fine on me today.
I tie my hair up on the way to the kitchen. “I’ll see you later,” I say to Mama, stealing a slice of her frittata. “I’ll cook tonight, okay? Take a break today. Why don’t you use that spa voucher I got you?”
“You’re not going out with Rob?”
“What? He’s not my date. He’s a customer.” Or was.
“By the way, did you manage to get the heating fixed?”
“I’ll sort it out. Don’t worry.” The heating at the shop front has been out of action for a month. Luckily the one in the back room still works well. That’s where I keep my materials and customers’ temperature-sensitive dolls and teddies.
“What will happen in winter?” Mama persists.
“It’s never that cold here in winter. And it’s not even the end of autumn yet.”
“I can still get into his account, you know.”
“Mama! You’re not going to hack Aidan’s account again. Not ever! Besides, there’s zero dollars in there, if not a negative balance. And we don’t want to reveal our whereabouts now, do we?”
“You underestimate me.” Mama makes her frustration clear. “The Bogarelli would still hire me, you know.”
“Mama, you’re a former accountant, not aconsigliere.” If she had the chance to relive the nineties, she would probably join the mafioso. Her headstrong and audacious attitude would’ve made her a great mafia adviser—the side of her that Papa found attractive, despite the occasional troubles she had caused. “Ciao, Mama.” I kiss her goodbye.
I toss her a glare before I rush to the shop. I really hope she’s not going to try what she has in mind.
With my emotions going all over the place thinking about last night, I realize the blanket I used to cover Rob is still on the couch. I pick it up, smelling his scent. Something pulses within me. If he had been my date, I would’ve tried to go on another one with him. But somehow I don’t think the man is looking for love, even if he doesn’t already have a wife or girlfriend. And as a matter of fact, I don’t think I am either. Loving a man still seems as farfetched an idea as the writer ofThe Bold and The Beautifulwinning a Pulitzer prize. Especially after being conned last night. My will to try again has taken a big hit.
