Tien’s obsession with her romantic life got a little irritating sometimes. But maybe he had a point: Kain had made no secret of how much he’d loved his high-profile, expensive-appendage lifestyle with her.
‘Although—are you sure that you’re the only one getting the notes?’ Tien continued, holding up a finger to signify he’d thought of something.
‘Not following.’
‘I mean, is there a chance this could be a prank? Maybe kids targeted the whole street. You’ll probably find there’s a TikTok subculture dedicated to pulling this kind of stunt for views. Like the first, that second note is vague, generic enough that anyone could take it personally. Maybe you’re reading into Wilkins’s grandstanding.’
‘Oh my God, you’re right.’ She clamped her forehead in a tight grip, digging her thumb and middle finger into her temples. But she could feel the tension falling from her shoulders like a dropped mantle. ‘You say it like that, and it sounds entirely plausible. And now I look absolutely neurotic.’
‘Not going to argue with the neurotic lady.’ Tien chuckled. ‘But maybe check with your neighbours.’
‘Can’t. My apartment’s a single, above my dad’s cafe. No neighbours.’
‘A cafe?’ Tien planted both hands on her desk. ‘You mean a commercial venture that might have some kind of security surveillance?’
She stared at him, waves of relief rippling through her.Of course. She hadn’t realised she was so stressed, yet now she was almost tearing up. ‘Tien, you are so wasted here. You should be solving crime for the cops, or hanging out with Batman, or something equally epic. If there’s a camera, I can get the footage, and mystery solved.’
‘Actually, you probably can’t,’ Tien cautioned with an apologetic wrinkle of his nose. ‘Most places record on a loop, so the record would be long gone.’
‘Oh.’
Tien took her empty cup, stacked it in his. ‘But it’s something to bear in mind if there’s another note. And you know what else? If it’s not kids, it could even be some kind of marketing campaign. “You are being watched.” “You’re not as safe as you think you are.” Maybe they’re leading to some conclusion like, I don’t know—’ He cast around, then snapped his fingers. ‘“Tired of getting unwanted junk mail from an unknown sender? Invest in our security system and always know exactly who is at your door.”’
‘Another calling you missed,’ she said, though she barely managed a smile. The rapid cycle of tension-relief-tensionhad left her exhausted. She regretted that she’d allowed the issue to fester, when Tien had so quickly dealt with it. ‘I’m catching up with Dad for dinner tonight, so I’ll ask him about the cameras then.’
‘You’re cooking?’ Tien asked innocently, though he followed the question with a mischievous grin.
‘Not likely. No, it’s the usual family dinner at the trattoria.’
‘Perfect, you’ll get this sorted in no time.’
‘God, I hope so. I feel like I haven’t slept properly for weeks. At least, not at the apartment.’ Bizarrely, now that Tien had offered not one but two entirely plausible stories for the threats, it seemed okay to admit just how much the issue had been preying on her mind. She should have spoken with him straight after the second note arrived.
‘Doesn’t show. But I keep telling you a roommate would be the perfect solution.’
She chuckled at his relentless hinting. ‘I won’t share my space with even a cat. But seriously, I’d be lost without you, Tien.’
‘You know it.’ He grinned and held the cups up as he headed for the door. ‘And lost without my perfect caffeine pimping, right?’
A slight frown chased her smile. Dad liked to brag about the proprietary blend he used in the cafe, yet the coffee Tien picked up was every bit as good. In fact, it was identical. It looked like Dad’s supplier was double-dealing, selling the bespoke blend elsewhere.
‘Mangia,’ Nonna commanded as she set a tureen of minestrone in the centre of the kitchen table. Only on special occasions did they eat in the restaurant itself, and eventhen, with their number increased tenfold by the inclusion of cousins, aunts and uncles, many of them would end up standing around the well-used workbench, swapping stories and food.
‘Bet you’re popular on buses, Dante,’ Jemma said as her uncle straddled a stool, forcing her to dismount and pull her chair further along the bench.
‘I don’t use public transport,’ he replied with a puzzled frown.
‘Manspreading,’ Dad said.
The explanation didn’t seem to help either Dante or her grandparents, but Jemma shot her father a grin. It was a game they liked to play, scoring points against Dante without hurting his feelings.
‘Taking up more than your share of the seating space,’ Jemma clarified.
Dante looked pleased, and thumped one of his thighs with the fist clenched around his spoon. ‘Bad boys, aren’t they? I’m squatting a hundred-ninety-eight kilos on five reps.’
‘Dante always looks good,’ Nonna said, determinedly oblivious to her son’s steroid use. ‘And Pierce, you are also looking well. Samanta must be feeding you.’
Nonno guffawed. ‘You think he suddenly cannot feed himself? He has his own restaurants, feeds hundreds of people, probably thousands, every year.’
