Why did he agree to be my bodyguard after that disastrous night at Sofia’s wedding?
I’m not sure I’m ready for those answers or—even more—to admit just how much I like having him around. Seeing him every day…sees a battle being waged between my mind and my heart.
We take the stairs down to the bakery in silence. He stays by my side as I organize the pastries onto the display counter, protesting half-heartedly when he steals a muffin. Seeing him enjoy my baking is the highlight of my day, but I'd never admit that out loud.
Not to him. Not to myself.
I'm just about finished unpacking the boxes when the front door opens. I look up, expecting to see my first customer of the day, but I'm met by the steely glare of the lead contractor I hired to work on the renovations. A short, stout man with a cap of white hair and a sharp mind but an even sharper mouth.
"Good morning, Mr. Davis," I call out when he storms in. My smile dims a little when I notice the vein popping on his forehead and the firm set of his mouth.
He's upset about something.
“I thought we discussed the renovations you wanted made and agreed to stay out of each other's way while I work.”
I notice Luca visibly tense at Mr. Davis’s tone, so I reach out and grab his arm, squeezing it before rounding the counter to stand next to the man I hired to renovate the building.
Mr. Davis is a man with an attitude that could offend others, but I've known him for many years. Hell, he worked with my parents on my childhood home, and there's no one I'd trust more with restoring this building. He’s an old family friend with a brilliant mind but a foul mouth that I promised myself to overlook.
“What are you talking about, Mr. Davis?” I ask, my voice soothing. Something my mother always used to diffuse tense situations. It doesn't seem to work on Mr. Davis.
“If you wanted the flooring re-done in the third-floor apartment, then you should have brought it up when we spoke a few days ago rather than tear it up yourself,” he says, Voice rising. “Do you have any idea what you've done? You ruined the original hardwood floors by ripping them up.”
“That’s enough.” Luca’s voice is cold steel.
He steps between us, one hand raised to keep Mr. Davis back, his body a wall of barely contained threat. “Lower your voice when you speak to her.”
Mr. Davis blinks, seeming to realize he’s overstepped. He takes a breath and has the grace to look somewhat abashed. “I apologize for my tone, Miss Marino. But this is serious.”
“It’s alright, Mr. Davis,” I say, stepping around Luca to face the contractor. “But what are you saying about the flooring being ripped out? I haven't set foot on the third floor of this building in weeks."
“You didn’t do it?” Mr. Davis says, his brows furrowing as if it hadn't occurred to him. "My boys and I worked on the drywall in the two bedrooms on that floor, and we were set to work on the common area today. But when we arrived, someone had torn up the flooring in one of the bedrooms and damaged all that beautiful wood in the process."
My heart nearly stops at his words. The apartments are both accessed through an enclosed stairwell at the side of the building and only four people have the key. Other than me, Ari, and Mr. Davis, the only other person with a key is Luca. No one else should have been able to get in.
“A-are you sure it wasn't one of your men?” I ask, hoping that maybe Mr. Davis gave his key to someone to lock up before they left yesterday.
“I was the last to leave yesterday,” he says. “Always the first in and last out. None of my boys can get in without me unless they break the lock, and it wasn’t broken.”
“I didn't do it, and Ari left yesterday. So, if you’re sure that none of your men went in after you left, then that would mean…”
“There was an intruder,” Luca speaks the words I was afraid to utter. Words I am afraid to even entertain. My eyes widen at the possibility, and I grab Luca's arm, gripping it tight as chills run down my body.
Christ, the last time there was an intruder at my home, my parents were killed.
My mind races. Someone was in this building last night. One floor above where I slept. Why didn’t I hear anything?
Because of the sleeping pill.
I was completely unconscious. Someone could have been right above me, tearing up the floors, and I wouldn’t have heard a thing.
Chapter Two
Luca
Matilde Marino has cast a spell on me.
I fell under that spell six months ago, the day I stepped into her uncle’s kitchen to escort a wedding cake and found her there—face dusted with powdered sugar, looking like everything I never knew I wanted. She welcomed me in, offered me coffee and the most addictive sugar cookies I’ve ever tasted. And when her bitch of an aunt stormed in and tried to make her feel small, something protective reared up inside me that hasn’t settled since.
