Her lips pulled together and wriggled as she contemplated this. “You’re so much bigger than me that you’d overpower me before I was able to stab you, so I think I would have to throw it at you when you weren’t expecting it.”
“Have you thrown a knife before?”
“No, so if you could pass me some, I’ll start practising.”
This time, he couldn’t stop the small rumble of laughter rising up his throat, and was glad his back was turned to her so she couldn’t see him smother it.
He put the lasagne into the microwave to heat.
“Did you make that?” she asked.
He opened the fridge for the salad stuff. “No.”
“Who did? One of your goons?”
“My housekeeper.”
“What’s her name?”
“Carmita.”
“Nice name. Are you married?”
He took a knife from the self-sharpening block. “No.”
“Girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Children?”
“No.”
“Siblings?”
“No.”
“Can I call my mother?”
“No… What?”
“She’ll be worrying about you.”
That made him look at her. While he’d been busying himself with dinner, Francesca had hauled her petite frame onto the counter facing him.
Smiling, her slim, golden legs gently swinging, she took a sip of her wine and shrugged. “I really should call home. I would have asked before, but I wasn’t in a rush to hearI told you so.” At his stare, she added, “My parents are very protective of me. My father more than my mother. He hates her side of the family and the danger they put us all in. If he could wrap me in cotton wool and keep me at home for the rest of my life, he would. You would not believe the fight it took for him to agree to me getting a job.” Her eyes suddenly narrowed. “I bet he’s the one who stopped me from being involved in those marriage talks. He’ll be trying to fight it.”
Gino put his attention back on the salad he was preparing. “From what I understand, the only requirement of you now is your compliance.”
“It’s been agreed?”
“The talks are still on-going but yes, it’s been agreed in principle.”
“How do you know all this?”
“Spies, Miss Marino.”
“Spies embedded in my family?”
