I smiled, and then my smile froze when I found three shelves filled with boxes of those chocolate cakes that I had craved the night Charlotte and Nick were becoming acquainted in the pantry at my parents’ house.
“Your husband, ah, had those sent here for you.”
“He—” I croaked and then cleared my throat. “He did?”
“Sì. He requested that we put them in that cabinet.”
Oh, Brando.
I made our coffee while tears blurred my vision. I handed Donato his and sat across from him, staring at my pear, twirling the stem until it finally ripped off with a pop. I kept the cookies I grabbed from another cabinet close at hand. I wanted to enjoy the cakes with Brando when he got home.
“Have you ever been crazy in love, Donato?”
The coffee mug stilled at his lips. “Ah.” He cleared his throat. “Crazy in love as in you and your husband? Or crazy in love as in Rocco Fausti and Rosaria Caffi?”
I laughed so loud that Jet meowed in response. “My husband and I,” I clarified.
“Is there a reason for your asking?”
“Yes. I’m a woman. I have a curious nature.”
“Sì.Your husband warned me.”
“I’m sure he did.” I grinned. “There’s a dancer I know. She’s very nice. I think you two would make a beautiful couple.”
A few of the girls had been asking after him, after it was clear that he was not connected to me romantically, but only one I felt was right for him.
“Ah.” He shrugged. “I do not have much personal time.”
“Neither does she. She’s concentrated on her career. But it has to get lonely, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned his eyes to his coffee. After a bit if silence, he said, “What would you like for me to do?”
I took a bite of pear, chewing it slowly. “A favor.”
“In return for a date with the nice dancer?”
“Sì,” I said, trying to hide my smile, moving the tin back and forth.Do I know people or do I know people?
“Do not try to sway me with your cookies either. I know how persuasive they can be.” He nodded toward the tin in my hand. “Still, I find myself needing to ask. Is this favor worth a couple?”
“And ice cream.” I grinned stupidly at him.
He threw back his head and laughed. “Is this favor life or death, Scarlett?”
“Yes,” I said seriously. “For me, it is.”
He adapted to the serious tone, considering me. “You are too persuasive for your own good.”
“So I’ve been told.” I slid the cookies across to him.
He snatched the offering, opening it, sniffing with beatific delight.
“This dancer friend of mine, she has a beautiful arabesque penché.” I wiggled my brows at him.
“That is what they all say.” He sighed. Then he took a cookie, chewing while he thought. “Okay. We will discuss the matter. If I find myself inclined to say yes—” he shook his head in what was meant to be an irritated fashion, but the grin on his face undermined his intent “—you must convince Rocco.”
I held my hand out. “Deal.”
