I'm making osso buco, because it's complicated and requires attention to detail, the kind of dish that demonstrates effort. The kind of dish that shows I'm not just some thug who orders takeout and eats standing over the sink. This is a meal that says something about who I am.
The wine is breathing on the counter—a Barolo, expensive and carefully selected. The table is set with two places, facing each other across the polished wood surface. Candles, because that's what you're supposed to do when you're trying to create an atmosphere. Everything is perfect, controlled, exactly as I planned it.
This is my territory. My space. Here, within these walls, I have control over every element.
After yesterday's disaster at the social club—the gun incident, the inappropriate questions, the complete chaos Liana brought into my professional world—I need to reset this situation entirely. I need to show her that I'm not just the man she can terrorize with her boundary-pushing behavior and casual weapons handling. I'm more than that.
I'm a man she should want to be with. A man worthy of respect.
The intercom buzzes at exactly seven o'clock. Punctual for once, which surprises me.
"Yes?" I press the button.
"It's me!" Her voice comes through the speaker, bright and cheerful. "I have my hands full, can you buzz me up?"
Hands full? What does that mean?
I press the button to unlock the building's entrance without asking for clarification. My apartment occupies the entire top floor, accessible only by the private elevator. She'll be up in a moment.
I check the osso buco one more time, lifting the lid to inspect the braised veal shanks. The meat is soft and tender, exactly as it should be. The risotto is almost ready—timing is everything with risotto, and I've been stirring it at precise intervals for the last twenty minutes.
There's a knock at my door and I wipe my hands on a kitchen towel.
I open the door, prepared to greet her with confidence.
Liana is standing there with three large plastic storage containers stacked precariously in her arms, teetering slightly as she tries to maintain her balance. Behind her on the floor of the hallway are two more containers, plus a garment bag hanging from her shoulder, plus what looks like a professional makeup case sitting beside her feet.
"Hi!" She beams at me with a radiant smile. "Can you grab some of this? It's heavier than it looks."
I stare at the mountain of belongings she's brought with her, my mind struggling to process what I'm seeing. "What is all this?"
"Oh, just some things I'll need when I'm here." She pushes past me into the apartment without waiting for an invitation, containers still balanced in her arms. "Where should I put these? Do you have a preference?"
"Put what? Liana, what—" I'm still standing in the doorway, trying to understand what's happening.
"My bathroom stuff. Skincare, makeup, hair products. You know, the basics every woman needs." She sets the containers down in my entryway with a series of thuds, then immediately turns to go back for more. "Can you grab that garment bag? It's got some clothes in it that I'll need."
"Clothes." I repeat.
"Just a few outfits. For when I stay over." She's already bringing in the other containers, moving quickly. "Oh wow, your place is absolutely gorgeous! Even better than I imagined!"
"Liana." I'm still standing in the doorway, garment bag now in my hand, feeling like I've lost control of this entire situation. "Why do you have clothes with you?"
"For staying over?" She says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "We're getting married in like a month. I should probably start keeping things here, right? It just makes sense to be prepared."
"You're not staying over tonight." I need to establish this boundary immediately.
"I know that, silly. Obviously not tonight." She laughs like I've said something amusing. "But eventually I will stay over, so I figured, why not bring some stuff now? Get ahead of it. Be proactive." She's wandering through my apartment now, containers abandoned in the entry. "This is beautiful. Very modern. Very you."
"Very me," I repeat numbly, still trying to process what's happening.
"Masculine but sophisticated. Clean lines, neutral colors. I love it." She walks to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city, the lights of Genoa twinkling below us in the evening darkness. "This view is incredible. Can you see the port from here?"
"Yes. Liana, about all this stuff you brought—"
"Which bathroom is ours?" She turns to face me, cutting off my objection before I can fully form it. "Or do you have a guest bathroom I should use for now? Although if we're getting married, we'll share a bathroom eventually, right? So maybe I should just put my things in your bathroom now. Save us the trouble of moving everything later."
"My bathroom?" The words come out strangled.
