When I’m finally finished, the woman rings us up.While he turns over his credit card, an assistant carefully wraps all the breakable items.
“Sorry,” the girl says, unable to take her eyes off my husband.“I don’t want the bags to break.”
And she no doubt wants to prolong the exchange as long as possible.Not that I blame her.I can’t get my fill of looking at him either.
Shaking his head, Moretti takes several bags to the vehicle then returns to help me with the remaining ones.
“Are you sure you left anything for other customers?”he teases as we turn over the final bags to the uncomfortable-looking soldier.
“I’m hoping she has more inventory in the back.”
Next door is a café, and I’m sure my eyes light up.
The place looks like something out of a European postcard.A chalkboard menu leans against the doorway, written in looping white script—espresso, cappuccino, crepes, fresh pastries.
“Let’s go in,” he says indulgently.“I know you need caffeine after the way I kept you up all night.
He’s more than right.“You don’t mind?”
“Not in the least.”
Who is this man, and what did he do with my mafia husband?
A bell jingles as we enter, and I’m immediately pulled toward glass cases at the front.They glow beneath warm lights, and they’re filled with buttery croissants, fruit tarts, and pastries dusted with powdered sugar.
The air smells like temptation—roasted coffee and warm chocolate.
Unable to help myself, I study the choices.A crepe folded into perfect quarters catches my eye—its edges crisp, the inside layered with Nutella and strawberries that look impossibly ripe.
I hesitate.
Dante notices immediately.“Get it.”
“It’s enormous,” I say.
“You burned plenty of energy last night.”
Heat rushes to my cheeks.
His mouth curves in that slow, wicked smile that makes my stomach flip.“And you’ll need the calories if you plan on keeping up.”
“Moretti!”
His grin deepens.
“Drinks?”
Dante orders a double espresso while I opt for a flat white.
The barista asks for our names for the order.Dante answers without hesitation.“Marco.”
I blink.
He doesn’t even glance at me.
“And for you?”the girl asks.
“Anna,” I say smoothly, following his lead and not missing a beat.
