I tucked the blanket around my shoulders, wriggling into the seat and wishing like hell I could take off the corseted bodice. “Nope. Never left Boston. Hate to break it to you, but I’m a city slicker through and through.”
Liam’s voice dropped an octave. It was almost lost in the crunch of gravel as the Jag sped along the dirt drive. “But I thought you studied abroad.”
Just like that, my heart started to race. It took every ounce of strength not to shift or move into a defensive posture.
“Oh, yeah, well, Italy is basically my homeland,” I fibbed. “It’s not like leaving home for me.”
From the corner of my eye, I saw him nod to himself. Maybe he bought it.Merda!How could I be so stupid? I walked right into that! Where was my head tonight?
“Where were you in Italy, again?” He sounded casual.
I forced a yawn. “Recanati.”
“How long did you stay?”
He was like a damn hound on a scent. I snuggled deeper into the pillow, suddenly not sleepy at all, but trying like hell to fake it.
“Seven months.”
He hummed. The wheels gripped pavement, and he unleashed the sports car.
“Why come back? I’ve heard Italy is lovely.”
It’s supposed to be.“My place was here. With the famiglia.”
“And now?”
I shifted and stared at him. “And now, what?”
Liam shot me a look, not focusing on the road. My heart leapt to my throat.
“Where is your place…now?”
With you….I almost said it.
But that was a lie I couldn’t tell, and a truth I couldn’t let myself want.
“Maybe we’ll go sometime,” I said lightly. “Eat gelato, go to Venice, Rome,Veronaand leave love notes in the courtyard wall at Casa di Giulietta. Silly stuff. Couples stuff.”
Liam turned back to the road and took a sharp turn. “Get some sleep, cailín. We’ll be home soon.”
I tried. I shut my eyes and really tried. But I couldn’t get the way he looked out of my head. This man, my husband, haunted me.
Chapter 36 – Liam
“This is everything?” I thumbed through the printouts on the pub’s worn table.
“Yep!” Kevin quipped, raising his pint, which was just foam at this point.
Nothing had changed. Da was dead, and the numbers were squeaky clean. There’d been no dip in revenue. Our activities were fully operational. They ran like a well-oiled machine.
My cousin lowered his voice. “Johny called.”
I pushed the papers into a neat stack, tapped them on the table, and then slid them into a manila envelope. “Oh?”
“He’s pissed.”
Not surprising. “And?”
