This man was life itself.
When he was sent to prison, I thought I was going to die. It took far too much work to build a life without him.
And where did that life leave you?
The bike careened around a corner, and I clutched Vincenzo. I was breathing hard as we shot out of the parking garage and into the traffic.
Every decision I made was to build a life where I was standing on my own two feet. Now that it had crashed around me, I was surprised to find myself remaining, almost unscathed, in rubble.
That was what being with Vincenzo tempted me into. An unknown future where nothing was certain. But as we wove through cars and barreled down streets, I considered it. I really did.
This was what freedom felt like. No impossible accomplishments weighing me down. No standards that I would never live up to. Just a boy, his bike, and me.
But the ride came to an end, and I let the daydream slip away.
Reality was a harsh taskmaster.
Looking up at the building, I frowned. Vincenzo stared down the street at the Boston Commons, his gaze searching for I didn’t know what. I tapped his shoulder, and he shook himself.
“What are we doing?” I asked after lifting the visor.
He jerked to the café directly beside us. “Grabbing breakfast.”
“And then?”
A smirk was my only answer.
“Enzo, come on, just tell me.” I gripped his hand tight as he helped me off the bike.
One long leg slung over the sleek bike. “Can’t a guy just take his wife out for the day?”
Warmth bloomed in my chest. “I suppose.”
Vincenzo gave me a soft smile before pulling out his phone and tapping out a message on the screen. He slid the device into his pocket a moment later, hesitated, then fell in step beside me. We made it a few paces. My jaw worked back and forth, molars scraping.
Oh, screw it.
I grabbed his arm, looped it over my head, and tucked myself against his body. I couldn’t walk by this man and not have his arm draped over my shoulder. The familiarity was instantly soothing.
That big, hard body seemed to relax—as much as a predator could relax while being constantly alert. Vincenzo watched the people passing on the street as he opened the door. His gaze swept over the interior of the café. He didn’t stop his surveillance as we placed our order. Going to a table along the far side, he sat with his back against the wall.
Always vigilant.
I took a tentative sip of my cappuccino. The foam dusted my upper lip, and the piping hot liquid slid down my throat. Those black eyes snapped to me, and I was suddenly the center of the monster’s focus.
“You said you’d tell me your plan,” I said, mostly to distract myself from the rush of warmth coursing through me that had nothing to do with the scalding beverage.
Vincenzo leaned forward. His thumb swiped over the corner of my mouth. A sharp tingle of electricity sizzled through me. The buzz of his phone distracted him before he could act.
I cupped my mug, shot a lazy look over my shoulder, and studied our surroundings. When the barista called out the breakfast order, I slid out of the seat to collect it. No sooner was the tray in my hand than energy crackled behind me.
“Grab the sandwich, fiore,” Vincenzo murmured roughly. “We’ve got to go.”
A wordless protest huffed from my lips, but he’d already hooked his arm under mine, capturing my elbow. I had to scramble to keep up with him. A tomato slice slid from my breakfast croissant, falling to splat on the threshold as we exited the café.
“Enzo,” I protested, adjusting my grip on the slippery parchment paper before I lost the whole sandwich.
“Come on.” He hurried down the sidewalk and went to the next door to the left. The glass panel swung open, revealing an atrium to a swanky collection of offices.
