Marry another girl and try not to make her miserable, you filthy manwhore.
I recognized Sofia’s elegant penmanship and remembered how heartbroken she’d been after Alessio’s Seconda when she’d seen Carlo with two other women. I don’t need heartache like that on top of everything else. Can I find a way to escape on my own?
When I come downstairs, my stomach rumbles from the savory aroma filling the air. It quickly tightens uncomfortably when I spot a woman standing over the stove with Carlo by her side. He’s speaking Italian with her, and I can tell they’re comfortable around one another, but the spike of jealousy I felt initially dissolves when her kind brown eyes meet mine and realize she’s my mother’s age.
“Francesca, allow me to introduce you to Dinora,” Carlo says, glancing my way. “She was off yesterday.”
“I’m sorry you missed our impromptu wedding,” I say, slanting a look at Carlo. His answering smirk is unabashedly smug as Dinoraand I exchange pleasantries. She says she hopes I will enjoy her sausage frittata, and I tell her honestly if it’s half as delicious as it smells I’m going to love it.
When Carlo tells me Dinora’s carbonara is ‘worth dying for,’ she gives him a sly grin. “If you like it so well, you should let me teach you how to make it for your beautiful wife.”
I grin at Dinora’s cheeky tone. “I think we’re going to get along very well,” I tell her, making her smile widen and Carlo’s eyes narrow.
Once breakfast is ready, Dinora bustles off to another room to clean, and Carlo pulls out my chair. It’s so strange being in his home and doing something so normal like sharing a meal together. Despite the intimacy we’ve shared, I barely know him at all.
He’s wearing a dress shirt and slacks, and his aftershave is even more enticing than the fresh coffee. I take a bite of the frittata, unable to hold in my moan from the amazing taste. Carlo grins at the sound as he’s scrolling through his phone, nodding with apparent satisfaction of his own before he opens one of the newspapers Dinora sat beside his plate. “It made it into the papers today despite the short-notice. Well done, Russo, I suppose,” he mutters.
I raise my eyebrows in question as I’m taking another bite, and he shows me the front page of one of them –
New York’s Most Eligible Bachelor Shocks with Hasty Marriage
I choke on my frittata but, even after the coughing subsides, the headline is still there, taunting me. “Everyone will know.”
“That’s the plan.”
“You wanted this?” I ask him, noting the horror-stricken tone of the article written by a female reporter.“Mystery miss nabs prized player.’She knows I’m Sofia’s cousin, I see.”
“The article in theTimesis much less gossipy,” he says, tapping the one he’s currently reading.
“‘The unknown girl of no apparent profession hails from Reno, Nevada…As the lovely Sofia De Luca hasn’t been spotted lately, one can only assume Miss Donnelly…’Jesus Christ, she’s all but suggesting I’m some sort of witch who offed her cousin and forced you to marry me instead. Was she one of your past conquests or something?”
“No,” he snaps, annoyed. “And I didn’t wantthat, but the press is full of bullshit reporting. Get used to it and learn to ignore it. No Vicini hangs their head, certainly not for those vultures. Anyway, you should be glad our bond is known. A wedding reception isn’t a surprise party after all.”
“Easy for you to ignore, maybe.” I keep reading, growing more aggravated at every word.
“Does your brother keep up with the news here?” he asks.
Startled, I pass the paper back to him. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Hmm. Have you heard from him… since Sofia left?”
I quickly shake my head, stuffing another bite of frittata in my mouth. I’m not sure he believes me, but it doesn’t matter. Even if I had heard from Ronan, I wouldn’t tell Carlo. He wants my brother dead.
After breakfast, he goes into his office, closing the door behind him. I retreat to the living room with my blank sheet music and keyboard.
“What will you do today while I’m at work?” Carlo asks, when he steps back out, preparing to leave.
I’m busy watching him adjust his gun and knife holsters before his words finally register in my sluggish brain. I need more sleep, but that’s not the only reason I find Carlo so distracting.
“I’ll go dress-shopping with Faro for our reception in between casting my next dark magic spell, I suppose. What else do trophy witches do all day?” I already went shopping yesterday, and Carlo wasn't even the slightest bit irritated by my spending spree.
“No one will ever suggest you’re involved in dark magic in the newspapers again. Don't you enjoy shopping?” Carlo asks next, genuinely curious.
I roll my eyes at his very male assumption. “I like it alright, but shopping with a bodyguard is a lot less fun than shopping with a girlfriend or even my mom.”
“You could go with my mother,” he suggests. “I think every clerk on Park Avenue knows her on sight.” I bite my lip to avoid being rude, but he must read my mind. Chuckling, he comes nearer. “I suppose you’re not exactly thrilled by the notion, are you?”
“Would she really want to go with me?” His expression tightens, and I have my answer. My shoulders slump. “I miss Cat and Gia. I have no friends here." More than likely, I never will. Blinking hard a few times, I return to my sheet music, not wanting to be vulnerable in front of him again.
