“Busy.”
A flicker of frustration crossed her face before she smoothed it away. “I gathered as much. Your mom mentioned you’ve been traveling a lot to Colombia. How was?—”
“She shouldn’t have said that.”
Fabiana blinked. “Why not?”
It was time to press on a button I knew would get her riled up. “It’s not something I want getting back to our enemies, one of which you appear to be best friends with.”
Fabiana’s boarding school connection to Mia Morales had been discovered by Romolo right after the engagement party. Ever since, he’d been working on getting close to Mia to see if we could use her to get something on her father. But so far, he’d made no progress.
The color drained from her face. “Mia is not your enemy. If my friendship with her makes you uncomfortable, I can promise you she’d never betray my confidence.”
The waiter came by to drop off some bread. “I’ll be right back with that wine you ordered.”
“Your friendship is over as soon as we’re wed.” I grabbed a piece of bread from the basket and tore it in half. “I’m surprised Rafaele hasn’t put an end to it already. He’s too lenient with you.”
“What do you mean our friendship is over?”
I spread butter across the bread with slow strokes. “Do I need to spell it out? It’s quite simple. You won’t be allowed to see her.”
“That’s ridicul?—”
“I should probably tell you now that the guards you’ll have assigned to you at all times will maintain tight control over your movements. You won’t go anywhere I don’t want you to, Fabiana.”
Her hands curled into fists on the tablecloth.
I cocked a brow. “You thought there wouldn’t be rules?”
The waiter returned with the wine. “May I, miss?”
“Please.” Fabiana shoved her glass toward him with a sharp jerk of her hand.
He stepped closer. One moment he was pouring the wine, and the next, the glass was tipping over right into Fabiana’s lap. She was so busy glowering at me that she hadn’t even noticed he’d bumped it with his hand.
“Oh my God.” The waiter clutched the bottle to his chest. “I’msosorry.”
Fabiana was already on her feet, dabbing at her dress with a napkin. “It’s okay.”
“I feel awful. Your dress is all stained,” the waiter said, shooting me a dirty look.
“Show her where the bathroom is.”
“Of course. It’s just over there. Let me take you.”
A few seconds after they were gone, Rosa walked past and silently swiped Fabiana’s purse off the back of her chair.
I rolled my shoulders. So far, everything was going exactly to plan.
But not ten seconds later, Rosa was back. “It’s not in here,” she whispered, setting the purse back on the chair and kneeling beside me as if fixing her shoe.
“What?”
“Her phone. Must be on her. Didn’t you see her take it out?”
Fuck. “No. She must’ve had it in her hand or in a pocket.”
“I can try and get it off her in the bathroom.”
