Page 32 of The Mafioso’s Bride

I nod.

“My hand will go on your waist. Firm pressure.”

His palm closes around my side. He puts his body between mine and the guests and takes me through the doorway.

The closed door muffles the quartet. The hall is empty. Luca brings me to the sitting-room door but doesn’t open it.

“Inside or here?”

“Here.”

“Do you want me near you or farther away?”

“Hold me. Firmly. Around my shoulders.”

“I’m going to put both arms around you now.”

I step into him before he finishes. His arms lock across my upper back. Hard pressure. Even pressure. My cheek rests against his shirt, below the tardigrade pin.

He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t tell me to breathe. His body blocks the hall while the straight seams of his jacket press against my face.

I take three short breaths. The fourth reaches deeper.

The rose perfume fades. Luca remains.

“Home,” I say.

“Yes.”

He takes me through the east exit. We don’t return to the ballroom. He doesn’t apologize to the host or ask whether I can endure dinner.

At home, I change into my blue tardigrade shirt and thick socks. Luca brings Earl Grey with two sugars and places it beside me in the breakfast room. He sits across the table rather than touching me again.

I take the floor plan from my bag and unfold it on the table. The tea reaches the correct temperature. I drink half the cup while my palms flatten the creases.

“Dario’s lead,” I say. “Did you need to return?”

Luca pushes the untouched chair beside him farther under the table. “No. Dario is following the lead now. Dante can handle the rest.”

“You left while Dante was speaking.”

His attention remains on my face. “You needed me.”

There is no qualification after it. No anger about the missed dinner. No reminder that one hundred and fifty people witnessed us leave.

I finish my tea and take the cup to the sink. My hands work properly. The places where the dress scratched no longer burn. The house contains the refrigerator motor, Luca’s breathing, and nothing I need to escape. I return to him and stand between his knees.

“I’m calm now.”

His hands remain on his thighs. “I’m glad.”

“I’m not apologizing for leaving.”

“Good.” He waits, leaving me room to continue.

“And I’m not offering you a reward for helping me.”

The corner of his mouth moves. “Good.” I press my palms against his lapels.