Johnny shrugs. “Food is our love language. Rem is practically crawling out of his skin keeping his distance. He channeled all his frustration into over-ordering. After he got through cursing everything and everyone under the sun.”
“Oh.” I drop the container I was opening back on the table, appetite gone. Hearing about Rem suffering makes me miserable all over again. “Jesus, this sucks.”
Johnny surprises me by saying, “It’s also kinda amazing. I’ve known Rem since we were kids. I’ve never seen him restrain himself like this. He’s a methodical fucker. As dangerous as they come. Once he sets his mind to something, nothing and no one can get him to back down. But you—” Johnny looks me dead on, gaze somber. “Everything about you being here goes against every fiber of Rem’s being. I can literally see him shaking as he fights to stay away. But he’s doing it because it’syou. Because you asked him to give you space and he’d burn the world down to give you what you need. Even if it means turning to ash himself.”
A strangled sob escapes me. Johnny’s expression turns apologetic. “I’m not telling you that to make you feel bad, Lena. Or to encourage you to change your mind. I understand whyyou wanted to leave. That was a whole lot of shit Rem and Ari dumped on you all at once. I’m just saying that, despite his obvious overbearing tendencies, Rem is devoted to you. From breath to blood. He’ll do anything you need, don’t doubt that.”
Something about Johnny’s expression reminds me of the way he’s looked at his own wife. “Like you’ll do for Bianca?”
“Exactly. So, I speak from experience. You can trust him with your life.”
“That part I don’t doubt,” I confess. “It’s whether or not I can trust him with my heart.”
Johnny goes quiet, continuing to arrange a feast for twenty. I could stay here a month and still not eat all the food Rem’s sent. “Is Lorenzo still in the hall?”
Johnny nods.
“You guys must eat some of this too. We can’t let it go to waste.”
“Sure, Mrs. Cosenza. Thank you.”
Our heart-to-heart is over. I’m back to being the wife of the boss. I want to ask how Bianca is doing, but Johnny takes a token plate of food to the corner of the room and eats it quickly. I can tell he’s doing it just to keep me happy, and for some reason that makes me even more sad.
I’m still pushing rice and butter chicken around the plate when Johnny heads to the door. “Thanks for the food.” He looks pointedly at my still-full plate. “Try to eat, too. Having something in your stomach will help.”
“With a broken heart?” I toss the question out as a morbid joke, but no one laughs. “You’re a bit of a bully too, you know.”
Johnny’s gaze is intense. “Especially with people I care about. You’re one of us, Lena. It’s my job to take care of you. Simple as that.”
I crush the impulse to hug him, to thank him for being a friend. That will just make us both embarrassed. “I’ll eat. Thanks.”
Johnny nods then disappears out the door. Silence fills the suite, so loud it’s hard to think. Suddenly, sitting still is too much. I abandon my plate to pace the spacious living area. I’m on lap nine when there’s another knock on the door.
“Mrs. Cosenza?” It’s Lorenzo. Unlike Johnny, he’s not going to give me an emotional pep talk, but I’m eager to get some of this food out of here. What once smelled divine is starting to make me sick to my stomach. I cut through the room, check the peep hole, open the door.
Lorenzo nods solemnly. “Giordano ordered me to eat. Said you insisted.”
“More like invited.” I start to smile but realize it’s a lost cause. I’m the wife of the boss. Lorenzo is just doing as he’s told. With a weak wave, I gesture him toward the table. “Take as much as you’d like.”
He grunts his thanks and steps by me. Watching him trek across the room, I let the door shut behind me and realize a second too late that I don’t hear it click into place.
“Is there enough for us as well?” Spoken in an extremely refined male voice, the question makes me whirl around.
An older man stands in the doorway. Hair gray at the temples, beard meticulously clipped, skin creased with age and a lot of time in the sun, he watches me with a measured gaze. His three-piece suit is immaculate, as are the wool coat folded over his arm and the pristinely polished shoes on his feet.
Everything about this stranger screams wealth and power, underlined by a hardness no amount of civility can conceal.
Despite his age, he towers over me. The two men behind him are even larger, their shoulders so broad each will have to angle themselves to get through the door.
Behind me, Lorenzo curses amongst the clatter of silverware, his arm brushing mine less than a second later. His body is coiled for action, his stance protective as he physically blocks me from the intruder’s view.
The older man says something in Italian and Lorenzo makes a sound like a strangled grunt. It must be an order, because my protector slides over just enough for me to face the older man.
“Pronto. Lena Cosenza, I assume?” He extends one perfectly groomed hand.
I glance at it before lifting my own, self-preservation propelling me to accept his gesture. Everything about him says that I don’t want to know what happens if I refuse. “Yes. I’m Lena.”
“Bella. I’m so delighted to finally meet you.” He gives my hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it. He dips his head in something like a bow and says the words I’ve been expecting—dreading—every second since he appeared. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Aldo Cerreti.”
