As we peruse the menu, Silvo points out his favorite dishes, describing each one in mouthwatering detail. I find myself drawn to the pasta carbonara, and when our food arrives, I’m not disappointed.
The pasta is cooked to perfection, with a creamy sauce and crispy pancetta. I close my eyes, savoring each bite. When I open them again, I find Silvo watching me with a soft smile on his face.
“Good?” he asks, his eyes twinkling.
I nod, swallowing my mouthful of pasta. “Incredible,” I admit. “You were right about this place.”
Silvo grins, looking pleased with himself. “I’m glad you like it,tesoro.”
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the only sounds the clink of our forks against the plates and the soft murmur of conversation from the other diners.
As he finishes his meal, Silvo leans back in his chair, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that sends shivers down my spine. “You know, Carmela,” he says, his voice low, “I’ve been thinking about that night at the club.”
I feel my cheeks flush, remembering exactly how good it had been between us. “Have you?”
“How responsive you were. How you said my name.” His gaze darkens. “How perfect we were together.”
The heat in his words makes my stomach flip, but I refuse to make this easy for him. “That was before I knew you’d kept the truth from me.”
Silvo leans forward. “Would it have changed anything? If I’d told you that night who I was, would you have walked away?”
I open my mouth to say yes, but the word won’t come. The truth is, I probably wouldn’t have. The chemistry between us was so strong and completely instant.
“That’s not the point,” I reply.
“Isn’t it?” His eyes hold mine. “You wanted me then. You want me now. The only difference is now you’re angry about circumstances neither of us controlled.”
“I have a right to be angry.”
“You do,” he agrees, surprising me. “But not at me for wanting my own wife. Not when you want me just as much.”
I grip my fork tighter. “You’re awfully confident.”
“I know what I felt that night,piccina. And I know what I see in your eyes right now.” He reaches across the table, his fingers brushing mine. “We can keep fighting this, or we can try to build something real.”
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I look down at our hands, at the way his thumb is gently stroking my knuckles.
“I’m not ready to just forgive and forget,” I say quietly.
“I’m not asking you to.” His voice is surprisingly gentle. “I’m asking you to try. With me. For us.”
I meet his gaze and see something there beyond desire or possession—genuine hope. Maybe he’s right. Maybe we can build something from this mess our families created.
“Okay,” I whisper. “We can try.”
His smile is slow and warm, and it does dangerous things to my heart.
13
SILVO
Ipace across the room, my mind racing. After our dinner last week, things have been... better between Carmela and me. She’s stopped treating me like the enemy, at least. But there’s still a wall between us—one I’m determined to break down.
An idea strikes me, and I grab my phone, quickly typing out a message.
Carmela, I’m heading to a poker game with some friends tonight. I’d like you to join me.
I hit send before I can second-guess myself. Maybe a night out together, showing her more of my world, will help bridge the remaining distance between us.
