The spiteful scorn that contorted his face scared Lucia. While she was curious to know more about what had happened between them, she figurednotknowing was probably best. She could only imagine the vitriol that might erupt from his mouth.
The image of sweet-faced Matilde sat illuminated on the table by his glass.That poor child, Lucia thought.Growing up with this man as a father figure. She had just about decided to call it, to pull the plug, irrespective of the level of clarity she did or didn’t have from the situation, when Claudio made it all the easier for her.
‘Enough of me. Tell me about you . . . Lucia.’ The pause before her name was laced with a hint of something more sinister. He lowered his voice and leaned across the table, leaving a handful of inches between them. ‘All I really remember from that night was your tight, wet—’
Lucia pulled back from the table with such force that Francesco instinctively turned towards her.
‘My what?’ It was impossible to hide her shock behind a whisper.
‘Bending you over the back of the stage like that. Makes me hard just thinking about it.’
She rose to her feet. ‘I never did any such thing. And I wouldn’t. Withyouof all people.’
‘Then who did I fuck by the speakers?’ He looked genuinely mystified.
Lucia let out a frustrated growl and pushed the table as far as she could before it smacked him in the chest. She threw down her napkin and downed the last of her wine. ‘Marco Polo!’ she barked across to Francesco.
‘Marcowho?’ wheezed Claudio, who had doubled over the table in pain, nursing his ribs.
Throwing her coat over her shoulders, Lucia laughed. ‘Go read a book. It might do you some good.’ She grabbed Francesco’s arm and led him from the bar.
It wasn’t until they had set foot on the pavers outside the bar that Lucia’s grip on Francesco loosened.
‘Incredibile!Brava, Lucia.’
She shuddered at the thought of Claudio being so close to her, let alone having him pursue her any further. Lucia gagged. ‘Che coglione!’ She wrung her hands then flicked her fingers. ‘Schifo!’
Francesco looped an arm through hers and guided her back onto the path towards home. ‘I’m so proud of you, Lucia. You really did something big tonight.Enorme!’ His free hand waved through the air.
She exhaled, causing grey puffs of condensation to dance ahead of them. ‘That was not what I thought might happen.’
‘Sì, sì. Lo so. But you did get an answer.’
‘I know.’ She shook her head a little to refocus her attention. ‘That was the aim. Now I’m even more curious about Nicolò.’
They approached a small bridge and started climbing the shallow steps in unison.
‘And if Nicolò is a dead end, what do you want to do? Return to the DMs?’
‘Absolutely not. If it’s not Nicolò, then we move on. I have the rest of my life to deal with love, but only seventy-one days to buy out La Scuola Rosa.’
‘I understand.’ Francesco pulled her arm a little more tightly to his side. ‘Nicolò won’t be back until the 7th. More than two weeks away.’
‘Good. Enough time to get pastthatmess.’ She flicked her head back in the direction of the bar. ‘And I have another date to worry about in any case.’
‘With whom?’
‘Tiziano. Our post-ball catch-up this Saturday.’
Francesco’s brow furrowed with concern. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
She tutted. ‘No. I’ll be fine on my own. Let’s just hope he’s turned enough of a profit to come through on our agreement.’
‘We can only hope.’
‘But until then, I was thinking that this Friday’saperitivocould use a little . . . boost.’ She turned to give him a sly wink, and the sparkle in her eye was reminiscent of the playful times the two had shared as young children. Lucia goading Francesco to chase her, Francesco pretending to refuse on account of not wanting to run inside the school, but eventually conceding and racing her up and down the spiral staircase. The ordeal ending in fits of giggles and a swift telling off from Mariella and Lucia’s parents.
‘Boost? Tell me more.’
