“I’ll be back,” I say, getting up and stretching. “Keep Cid company for me.”
Cid, who has no loyalty, is curled up with Camilla. He doesn’t even blink an eye in my direction. Why would he, now that he has a new human to convince to dote on him? I head to the kitchen, hoping I find Lucky there as well as the lemonade.
Unfortunately, he’s not alone in the kitchen. Antonella is there, chatting with him. They both look up at me, and I feel distinctly like I walked in on a private moment.
“Sorry,” I blurt. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Antonella had said she was going to shower, so I hadn’t realized she’d reemerged.
“You’re not interrupting,” Lucky says easily. “What do you need?”
“Lemonade.”
“I’ll get you a glass,” Antonella offers, already going to the fridge.
She’s very much a caretaker. I can see that just from our limited interactions. That’s an area where she and her son have quite a bit in common. I haven’t missed the way he’s always been looking out for me, from that first night when he made certain that I got a table and had dinner, to now, keeping me here at his family’s safe house.
“I can get it,” I protest, but Antonella is already grabbing the pitcher and pouring.
“Need anything besides the lemonade?” Lucky asks with a sly look.
Caught. I have the distinct feeling that Alessio’s younger brother is onto the fact that I’ve developed a major case of feelings.
I swallow hard. “Have you heard from Alessio?”
Although I opt for sounding nonchalant, I know I’m being painfully obvious.
“I got an update about an hour ago.”
“And you didn’t tell me?” I blurt.
I’ve been stewing in worry, the knot in my stomach rivaling the panic in my chest. The window decals help with my anxiety over feeling closed in, but every time I look at them, I think of Alessio and wonder if he’s safe.
“Should I have told you?” Lucky asks pointedly.
“No, of course not.” I know I’m not anyone of importance in Alessio’s world. I’m not even a girlfriend. I’m just a hookup. A temporary convenience because we’ve been thrown together again, thanks to the Russians and my cat-sitting gig.
“You like him. Admit it,” Lucky says, grinning.
My face is hot. I can’t look at either Lucky or Antonella.
“Of course she likes him,” Antonella says as she hands me the lemonade she poured for me. “Alessio was always a sweet boy, and I’m so proud to see the man he’s become.”
I thank her, and she waves a hand as if to say it’s nothing.
“Eh, Saint’s kind of okay,” Lucky says in response to his mother’s praise of his older brother.
I smile at Lucky’s joke, grateful for the distraction, but I’m still thinking about how difficult it must have been for Antonella to stay away from her sons for all these years. What an impossible choice to make. Did she keep her distance because her fear of Alessio’s father was that extreme, or did she do it because she wanted out of the Mafia life, the circle of violence and death that never seems to end? Or was it a combination?
The questions weigh heavily on me, a much-needed reminder that this isn’t a world I belong in. Alessio isn’t for me. I’ve just been through one heartbreak, thanks to Christian, my whole life has been upended, and if I should have learned anything from the time I’ve spent here since returning from St. Thomas, it’s that danger and unpredictability lurk around every corner. It’s a bad combo for someone like me.
Toxic.
Just like Alessio is.
Besides, he’s a criminal.
A one-night stand I’ve revisited a few times too many.
