“My carbonara is almost as good as my mother’s.”
“Almost?”
“You never tell an Italian mother, your cooking is better than hers. It’s a cardinal sin.”
She laughs, and the sound fills me with warmth.
This is good. This is working. Maybe Marco was wrong. Maybe I can have this, these dinners, these conversations, these moments of normalcy in between the violence and the blood.
And then I see him.
Greco’s man, standing near the bar. Dark suit, hand in his pocket. His eyes lock on mine, and I see the moment he recognizes me.
Fuck.
“Elena,” I say carefully, not taking my eyes off the threat. “I need you to stay calm.”
“What?” She starts to turn around.
“Don’t look.” My voice is sharp enough that she freezes. “Keep looking at me. Smile like we’re having a wonderful time.”
“Alessandro, you’re scaring me.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But I need you to trust me.” I pull out my phone with one hand, texting Paulo with practiced ease.Greco’s man inside. Need exit.
Elena is staring at me, her face pale. “What’s happening?”
“Nothing. Everything is fine. We’re just going to leave a little early.”
“You said we were having a wonderful time.”
“We are. But something came up.”
“Something always comes up with you,” she says, and there’s hurt in her voice now. “Every time we’re together, something happens. The explosion, now this—”
A crash from the bar area cuts her off. I’m on my feet instantly, positioning myself between Elena and the threat. Greco’s man is arguing with someone, one of my guys, I realize. Paulo must have sent him in.
“We need to go.Now.”
I grab Elena’s hand and pull her toward the back of the restaurant. The maître d’ moves to intercept, but one look at my face and he steps aside.
“Sir, is everything—”
“Emergency,” I say shortly. “We’ll settle the bill later.”
I rush Elena through the kitchen as chefs and sous chefs jump out of our way, and out the back door into an alley. Paulo is already there with the car, engine running.
“In,” I order.
Elena doesn’t argue, sliding into the backseat. I follow, and Paulo peels out before my door is even fully closed.
“What the hell was that?” Elena demands. “Alessandro, what is going on?”
“There was a situation. I got us out of it.”
“A situation? You mean the guy at the bar?”
“You said you weren’t going to look.”
