I brought a small suitcase from Florence and moved into a room in the servant quarters, along with the new guys in training.
It helped not to be by myself. It would have been a lot worse if I’d been in my empty apartment, drinking alone and binging Netflix.
Even though it was good to be back, I still felt depressed as hell.
I could forget about Emilia for a little while… sometimes even an hour at a time…
But when I was standing around doing nothing on guard duty, or staring into the darkness when I went to bed…
All I could think about was her.
The women I’d dated in the past, before I joined the Rosolinis – breaking up with them had beennothinglike this.
Adriano reallywasright –
I’d been hit with the thunderbolt, andbad.
Four days later, I was just getting back into a rhythm at the mansion when Adriano called me from Florence.
“I need you at Bianca’s shop this afternoon.”
My stomach sank. “Does it have to beme,boss?”
“Yes, it does. Two of the other guys are sick, and I don’t want them hacking up a lung on everybody in the store.”
“But – ”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ, are you still mooning over that goddamn chick?”
Therewas the Adriano I’d been expecting all along.
“No, I’m fine,” I lied.
“Good, then grab a car from the garage and get over there, pronto!”
He hung up before I could say anything else.
I sighed, told the mansion’s head foot soldier I had to return to Florence, and went back to my room to pack.
I got into Florence just after 5 PM.
As I parked the car, I glanced over at the café and felt heartsick –
But I tore my eyes away and walked into Bianca’s shop.
In my absence, it had been transformed into a makeshift photography studio. Several sheets of colored cloth hung from the ceiling: mint green, blue satin, smoky grey. Half a dozen lights on tall stands – the kind a TikTok influencer might buy on Amazon – stood around the room, though they were shut off.
But Bianca wasn’t there. Neither was Adriano or any foot soldiers.
The only people in the shop were a couple of part-time workers she’d hired to get the place ready. They were arranging clothes on the racks.
“Where’sSignoraRosolini?” I asked.
“They’re all next door at the café,” one of the women replied, then went back to hanging up clothes.
My stomach twisted in knots.
Oh SHIT.
