She took a seat at the marble island as Aldo turned from the stove.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Starving,” she admitted.
After a brief moment, he set another stunning little charcuterie tray in front of her, along with a glass of wine. The cheeses were creamy and sharp, the salami perfectly spiced, the olives glossy and briny. She hadn’t realized how empty she was until she started eating, then she inhaled everything, barely remembering to chew.
Wine warmed her throat. The tension in her shoulders loosened. But her mind kept spinning. Who the hell wanted Ernie? What was really going on? That grotesque statue was not worth killing for. Or dying for either, for that matter.
Soft under-cabinet lighting glowed against the tiled backsplash, and the aroma of the simmering sauce filled the air with comfort. But she felt anything but comforted. With her stomach full, exhaustion had settled behind her eyes.
“That sauce smells heavenly. Is it for tomorrow by chance? I am so totally full I couldn’t eat another bite,” Kathleen confessed.
“Yes,” Aldo nodded. “It needs to simmer for a while to allow the full flavor to come out.”
Kathleen took another swallow of wine. “Have you worked with Enzo for long?”
Aldo turned to face her. “I’ve been with Mr. Valardi for many years. He has been very good to me.” She took his cold, dismissive tone as a clue that this topic was off-limits.
Kathleen blinked. “I…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you or imply otherwise. Enzo has been nothing but…” she had been about to say kind, but that was not the best word to describe him. “Generous with his time and his home. I wouldn’t dream of criticizing him.”
Aldo gave a small nod, and his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch shy of freaking tense as he turned to stir his sauce.
Damn. Was she making this man uncomfortable by being in his space? “Er…I’m sorry if I’m…I shouldn’t have sat here. You’re busy.” She started to stand.
Aldo pivoted to face her. “No, not at all. It is I who should apologize. Mr. Valardi has many detractors. He has worked hard and made much of himself. Many do not like that. I find myself being overly protective of him when it’s not my place. Forgive me.”
Kathleen shook her head. “There’s nothing to forgive. My brother is the same. It makes them hard at times, and people forget they are human and they have feelings. The fact that you are so protective of Enzo speaks to your loyalty and to your character. And his. It’s a lovely thing. Thank you for being so tolerant of me.”
She wanted to get out of this conversation as she was sure neither she nor Aldo were enjoying it. It seemed way toointimate in a way. Kathleen immediately put her hand to her mouth and faked a yawn. “I’m exhausted, so I’m going to head to bed.”
“Sleep well,” Aldo replied from his position by the stove.
“Thank you.” She moved toward Enzo’s office but his door was closed, and, in reality, she wasn’t sure yet what she wanted to say to him. On the one hand, she was still pissed that he grabbed the backpack. On the other, she was still excited to be involved in something that thrilled her.And how screwed up was that?
She climbed the marble staircase slowly, trailing her fingers along the smooth banister. The house hummed quietly around her, the soft click of cooling pipes, the faint scent of lemon polish and old wood. She was amazed that the sounds of the city barely reached her. Then she supposed the walls were probably incredibly thick. It made her feel safe, as if nothing could touch her here. Safe from the world. If only that were true, but she’d seen enough to know that no place was completely safe.
She walked into her bedroom and tried to let the happenings of the day wash away. Maybe a shower would work. She grabbed a tank top and a pair of sleep boxers and went into the bathroom.
The shower was large and made of creamy marble. She turned on the water, and in minutes, she was engulfed in warm steam and the hot spray. She let out a long sigh and yawned for real this time.
She was exhausted, and as the adrenaline wore off, reality set in. What had seemed like a fun adventure just hours ago now pressed against her chest like a weight. Suddenly, it hit her… She had to go home tomorrow. She had a son to think about. A life. Responsibilities. Feeling alive was one thing. Risking her life was another. Connor would never forgive her. And she wouldn’t forgive herself.
As she washed her hair in the beautiful bathroom, the luxury felt hollow. Heavy. Her shoulders sank under the weight that returned, familiar and suffocating. It was time to grow up. She sighed as the warm water washed over her.
Why did responsibility always feel like the opposite of fun?
CHAPTER TWENTY
Enzo’s gut tightened. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and sweat broke out across his shoulder blades. Alessandro Vitale. The man was vile. Hatred rolled through Enzo’s veins, rising hot and fast. It climbed his throat like bile.
“What the fuck do you want?” Enzo snapped.
“That’s no way to treat an old friend,” Vitale replied smoothly.
“We are a lot of things, but friends have never been one of them,” Enzo bit out.
“It’s never too late,” Vitale said, amused.
