“Go to bed.”
She blinks. “What?”
“What comes next isn’t for you to witness.”
Her gaze drops to the phone in my hand. Back to my face. Whatever she reads there makes her go still.
“Romano.”
“Will be dealt with.” I keep my voice flat. “You’ve done your part. More than your part. Now let me do mine.”
She hesitates.
But she doesn’t argue.
“Okay.” She crosses to me. Rises on her toes. Presses one kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I’ll be waiting.”
Then she slips out the door, and I’m alone with the folder.
I dial.
Renzo picks up on the second ring.
“My study. Now.”
A pause. He knows that tone.
“On my way.”
Footsteps in the hallway. Renzo’s measured stride. The door opens.
My brother takes one look at my face and goes still.
“We have a problem.” I hand him the folder. “And I know who’s responsible.”
21
CASSIA
I wake to the smell of rosemary and his arm across my waist.
Sunday.
The compound is stirring beneath us. Pots clanging somewhere in the distance. Water running. Nonna Rosa’s voice drifting up through the floorboards, humming something old and French that I don’t recognize but my body responds to anyway.
The sounds of a home. Safe sounds.
I don’t move. Don’t want to break whatever spell keeps Dante’s breathing slow and even against my shoulder, his fingers curled at my hip.
He’s warm. Solid. Real in a way that still surprises me when I let myself think about it.
Two days since the library. Two days of quiet on the surface and chaos underneath.
Tonight, they move.
But that’s tonight.
Right now, it’s morning, and his hand is sliding up my ribs, and I’m allowed to have this. Just for a little while longer.
