He hands me the bouquet and takes my free hand, leading me out of the piazza toward a blacked-out SUV parked nearby. “I have one last surprise that does actually require a vehicle.”
I don’t argue or ask questions. I just bury my face in the flowers, inhaling their sweetness as I follow him into the backseat. For the first time, we don’t even try to keep our distance. His arm settles aroundme, and I lean into his warmth as we ride through the streets of Verona.
The driver drops us off at the edge of an enormous lake. Its surface is a flawless mirror of turquoise. I’ve never seen a more breathtaking view. Locke takes my hand and leads me down a narrow path as the sun sinks lower in the sky.
We reach a small, secluded patch of grass where a giant white blanket is sprawled across the ground. String lights are wrapped around the trunk of a nearby tree, casting a soft golden glow over the meal spread before us. A charcuterie board overflowing with fruit, cheeses, and sliced meats. Several bottles of wine and two glasses sit nearby.
My throat goes dry. I want to tell Locke how beautiful this is, how utterly romantic and completely unexpected. I try, but nothing comes out.
Suddenly it all comes rushing back to me. All the birthdays that passed without even a card, the milestones without a moment of celebration, the countless times I ate alone, walked home in the dark, or realized that not one person in the room actually cared if I was there.
All I can do is stare at the scene in front of me, then back at him. Hot tears spill down my cheeks, despite my best effort to hold them back.
Locke’s brow furrows as his eyes dart between the picnic and me. “Is everything okay?”
“No one’s ever done anything like this for me. No one.” I let out a sigh, dabbing my eyes. “I’m not even sure I’ve ever been on a real date. But this… this isn’t just a date. It’s amazing.”
He looks genuinely shocked by that confession. Maybe I’ve said too much. But I don’t care. I want him to know how much this means to me.
Locke sits in an open space near the food, and I follow, settling beside him. He pours two glasses of wine as I pop a grape into my mouth, watching the sunset paint the water in gold and coral. It’s the most magnificent thing I’ve ever seen, maybe even better than the desert sunsets back home. I’d always thought they were the most beautiful things in the world.
It takes me a few moments to realize that Locke is staring at me. I give him a sideways glance. “…Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Just enjoying the view.”
I nearly choke on my wine. “Okay, that was the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.”
He just smiles. “What can I say? You’ve brought out a side of me I haven’t seen in a long time. I’m leaning into it.”
“A long time,” I repeat softly, the words hanging between us. “What happened to him, Locke? The version of you that used to be like this?”
Locke hesitates, his gaze darting toward the horizon. “Oh, just my whole life, really.”
Despite the smile playing on my face, a wave of sadness washes over me. “Same.”
His eyes match my sadness now, too. “Yeah, growing up with a dad in the mob will do that to you. It’s not quite like the movies, but it isn’t normal, either.”
I blink, eyes wide. “The mob? I didn’t peg you as Italian.”
“I’m not. The Irish have a mob too, you know.”
“Ooh, an Irishman? Too bad you didn’t get the accent. That would be hot.”
Locke gives me a flat look. “As I was saying,” he exhales, “my dad was pretty high up. Our family was respected, wealthy, and protected. Being the oldest, he expected me to take over the family business. He started training me from the time I was sixteen.We ran nightclubs and private event venues — at least, that was the legal side. Luxury hospitality for high-end clients. But that all ended when the FBI finally caught up with him. They hit him with RICO charges. Money laundering, drug trafficking, conspiracy… all the greatest hits. They came for him in the middle of the night. Didn’t even bother knocking, just busted right through the door. I remember my mother offering coffee to all the agents while they tore the place apart.” He shakes his head, smiling to himself. “He’s been in federal prison ever since.”
I stay silent for a moment, letting the new information settle before asking, “So what happened? To the business, I mean.”
“I took over after he went away. A little sooner than expected, but I did my best. Back then, I just wanted to make him proud, but I was determined to make it fully legitimate. Didn’t want me or, worse, Nate ending up where he is. So, I stopped the laundering and the drugs and kept the entertainment for a while.”
“I have to say, the idea of you planning parties is hilarious. But how’d you go from that to PR?”
“Excuse me? I throw great parties,” he shoots back with a mock glare. “But I only managed events for a while. Mostly for celebrities and other high-end clients. Producers, politicians, the odd millionaire. It was fine until people like Luke started showing up. I thought walking away from the mob was enough, but I was wrong. The industry still attracts the same rot. People who actually make organized crime look tame. I couldn’t stomach being so close to it anymore, so I rebranded the business as Bishop Strategies. I swore I was going to actually help people.” He lets out a dry laugh. “Now I just help them cover up their lies.”
I swirl what’s left of the wine in my glass, watching the deep red liquid catch the fading light. “You help them clean up their messes,” I murmur more to myself than him, “I usually just make them.”
Locke huffs out a quiet laugh, but his eyes stay on me. “You ever get tired of that?”
“Of what? Messes?”
