I reached for her hand across the table, but she pulled back. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to upset you. You seemed to be avoiding talking about Lord. I didn’t want to force the issue. I was waiting for you to bring him up.”
“So instead, you let me walk around not knowing if he was lurking in the bushes outside?” She pushed back from the table, standing abruptly. “Do you have any idea how dangerous this is for me? I don’t know what he’s capable of. I don’t know when he’s in town. I don’t know how he feels— if he’s mad or whatever. Like am I supposed to be looking over my shoulder every minute of the day?”
“I thought I was protecting you,” I said, standing to meet her gaze. “Every time Lord’s name would come up, you shut down.You would change the subject. I didn’t want to press you and make things worse.”
“Make things worse? Worse for whom?” She twisted her lips. “Zio, this isn’t about my comfort. This is about my safety. I’ve seen Lord do violent things.”
“We’ve all done violent things.” I said, wishing I hadn’t said it.
Labria rolled her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m here dealing with this shit. I’m always the last one to know some shit that directly affects me.”
I ran my hand through my hair again, tugging at the roots in frustration. “I know. I fucked up. I should have told you immediately. I wanted to protect you.”
“Yes, you should have told me he knew. You’re his cousin. He can’t be too happy about us being together.” Her expression hardened, then gradually softened as she watched me. “Why didn’t you really?”
I sank back into my chair. The weight of my silence felt heavy on my shoulders. “I didn’t tell you because I was afraid.”
“Afraid, afraid of what?”
“That you’d leave. I like that you’re here. I want you here with me. If you knew Lorded was aware of your whereabouts, you might go.” I looked up at her, finally meeting her gaze. “I didn’t want you to realize this thing between us wasn’t worth it.”
Labria returned to her seat, her movements deliberate, controlled. She was in lawyer mode now, analyzing, assessing. “That wasn’t your decision to make.”
“I know.” I reached for my wine again, wishing it were something stronger. “I’m sorry.”
“Is there anything else I should know? Any other secrets you’ve been keeping from me to ‘protect’ me?” Her fingers made air quotes around the word.
“No.” I shook my head. “No more secrets. But there’s something I don’t understand. If you left Lord because of Lolita, why hasn’t he mentioned that to Nicco? Why pretend he doesn’t know why you left?”
Labria’s expression shifted, confusion replacing anger. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s embarrassed? Or maybe he doesn’t care enough to explain to the don.”
“Or maybe I don’t know.” I decided against saying more. There was another possibility, but I refused to give my cousin Lordes the benefit of the doubt.
Labria’s brown eyes met mine across the table.
“What did Cenzo say to you exactly?” she asked. “When he told you that Lord knew?”
“Just that he knew you were staying here with me, and it was his job as consigliere to know what was going on.”
“All of our privacy is gone. Did Cenzo tell you to kick me out?”
“No, he wouldn’t say that. No matter how he personally feels, he would never tell me what to do when it came to a woman.”
Labria sighed, some of the fight going out of her. She picked up her fork again, though she just pushed pasta around her plate. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I understand why you didn’t tell me, even if I don’t agree with it.”
“No, you’re right to be angry. I should have told you immediately.” I reached across the table again, and this time she allowed me to take her hand. “No more secrets between us. I promise.”
She nodded, her thumb gently stroking my palm. “No more secrets. I hate a liar. That’s exactly what Lord is. He’s a liar. I’m not going to deal with a man who hides things from me. I can’t do.”
We finished our meal in relative silence. We were both lost in our own thoughts. The candles burned lower, casting longshadows across the table. The romantic dinner I’d planned had turned into something else entirely—not a disaster, but a reminder that whatever was happening between us existed in the shadow of larger, more dangerous forces.
After dinner, Labria drifted toward the living room window, wineglass in hand. The evening sky had turned deep blue. I cleared our plates, giving her space while stealing glances at her silhouette against the glass. The tension in her shoulders told me our conversation was far from over. I loaded the dishwasher quickly, then joined her, bringing the wine bottle as reinforcement. The soft clink of glass against glass as I topped up her drink drew her attention back to me.
“What are you thinking?” I asked, leaning against the window frame opposite her.
She swirled the wine in her glass, watching the liquid slosh around. “I’m thinking that Lord’s silence scares me.”
“What do you mean?”
