"Rest, Giana," he said, his voice regaining some of its usual gravel. "We have a party to plan, and lessons will begin tomorrow."
Rodrigo turned and walked toward the door, feeling her gaze on him. He closed the door softly behind him without looking back. He didn't trust himself to. The image of her blush, the heat in her eyes, the feel of her skin... He wouldn't be strong enough to resist that a second time.
14
Rodrigo moved down the halls of the villa, needing space from Giana and all the feelings she stirred up in him.
His stomach growled, and he realized he hadn't eaten since breakfast. He moved through the shadowed halls, the polished marble floors cold under his bare feet, and headed for the kitchen.
Low, familiar voices reached him before he turned the corner and found the kitchen lights on with Leo and Dario already in there.
The kitchen was a vast, high-ceilinged space, a blend of an ancient stone hearth and modern stainless-steel appliances. Gabriella had rarely set foot in there, and it had always been a place of warmth and utility that felt refreshingly separate from her influence.
Leo sat perched on a tall stool at the central island, his laptop and a half-eaten plate of cold cuts and cheese alongside an open bottle of Peroni.
Dario leaned against the massive, ancient stone counter near the sink, munching on a thick, elaborately made sandwich. He looked more relaxed than Rodrigo had seen him in days, dressedin sweats and a gray Henley. He was watching Leo with an affectionate, slightly exasperated expression.
"…and if you reroute the primary feed through that secondary nodebeforethe encryption layer kicks in," Leo was saying, pointing at something on his screen, "the latency is negligible, but it creates a phantom signature in the old CCTV logs. Anyone watching closely might think we're trying to hide something on the perimeter cams, not masking the entire manipulation layer."
"So it makes it look like we're being sloppy, hiding a vulnerability, not cleverly hiding the fact that we're manipulating everything?" Dario asked around a mouthful of bread.
"Exactly. Authentic incompetence is harder to fake than competence, but more believable when you're supposedly distracted by lovebirds." Leo took a swig of his beer, eyes shining with the fun he was having screwing with their enemies.
"Authentic incompetence," Dario repeated, chuckling. "Right up my alley. Remind me why we let the assassin tech genius handle the subtle stuff again?"
"Because your idea of subtlety involves a sledgehammer and a megaphone," Leo shot back without looking up, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
Rodrigo stepped into the light. "Couldn't sleep?"
Both brothers jumped, turning toward him. Dario recovered first, his eyes sweeping over Rodrigo, taking in the casual clothes, the bandaged hand, the weary set of his shoulders.
"Look who's talking. I thought you'd be occupied with our guest, or planning to invade the whole of Sicily." The suggestive lift of his eyebrow was pure Dario.
Rodrigo ignored the implication, moving toward the industrial-sized stainless-steel refrigerator. He yanked it open, the cool light spilling out.
"Occupied with hunger." He scanned the shelves, pulling out a block of aged pecorino, a container of olives, and another bottle of Peroni. He grabbed a knife and a small wooden board from a rack.
"Thank God you didn't fire the cook when you 'de-Gabriella-fied' the place," Leo commented, watching Rodrigo assemble his meager feast on the counter beside him. "Leftovers are still top-tier." He nudged the plate of cold cuts toward Rodrigo.
Rodrigo grunted in acknowledgment, slicing cheese while he popped an olive into his mouth. The familiar ritual of food preparation, simple and grounding, helped settle the lingering disquiet from his conversation with Giana.
Dario picked up the open beer bottle Rodrigo had set down and took a long pull before handing it back.
"Keep it." Rodrigo grabbed another from the fridge. "I don't know where your mouth has been."
"Nowhere fun lately," Dario lamented. "How's Giana settling back in? And what did she think of the party plan and the whole 'playing happy couple under enemy surveillance' bit?"
Rodrigo took a swig of the fresh beer. Leo had stopped typing, his attention fully on Rodrigo.
"She agreed to it," he replied.
He paused, the next words sticking in his throat. Honesty was a muscle he was still learning to use.
"I told her everything. About Gabriella and about us after Niccolò died. Why we kept her alive, why Leo was forced into the engagement, and why he left."
A heavy silence descended on the kitchen, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator. Leo's face was unreadable, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere over Rodrigo's shoulder. Dario leaned his hip against the island, his expression sobering.
"Everything?" Leo asked quietly.
