I’d forgotten Luca had dropped them on the sofa. “I don’t know. Maybe the walk-in closet?”
He strode past me and set the bags down on a bench in the closet. My three suitcases as well as two moving boxes were beside it. “Do you know if I need to dress up for tonight? Luca said he wants to take me to his favorite restaurant, but he didn’t tell me if it has a dress code.”
Romero smiled. “No. Definitely no dress code.”
“Why? Is it a KFC?” I’d actually never eaten at a KFC. Father and Mother would have never taken us to a place like that. Gianna, Lily and I had once convinced Umberto to take us to a McDonalds, but that was the extent of my experience with fast-food joints.
“Not really. I think Luca wants to surprise you.”
I doubted that. “Maybe I should unpack then.” I gestured at my suitcases.
Romero kept a careful distance from me. He was nice but professional. “Do you need help?”
I really didn’t want Romero to touch my underwear. “No. I’d prefer to be alone.”
Compassion filled Romero’s face before he turned and left. I waited until I was certain that he was back downstairs before I opened the first box. On top was a photo of me with Gianna, Lily and Fabi. I cried for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. I’d seen them only this morning, so how could I already feel so alone?
* * *
When Luca came home almost five hours later, I’d changed into a skirt and a flimsy, sleeveless blouse. Despite my best efforts, my eyes were still slightly red from crying. There was a limit to what makeup could do. Luca noticed immediately, his gaze lingering on my eyes, then darting to the photo of my family on the nightstand.
“I wasn’t sure which was your side. I can move it to the other nightstand if you want,” I said.
“No, it’s okay.” Exhaustion was written plainly on his face.
“Was the meeting okay?”
Luca looked away. “Let’s not talk about it. I’m starving.” He held out his hand and I took it and followed him to the elevator. He was tense and barely said a word as we rode in his car. I wasn’t sure if he expected me to make conversation, and I was too emotionally drained to put up an effort.
When we stopped at a red light, he glanced over. “You look great.”
“Thanks.”
He parked the car in a gated parking area where they stashed the cars on top of each other, then we headed down a street with small restaurants offering everything from Indian cuisine, to Lebanese and Sushi. He stopped at a Korean restaurant and held the door open for me. Stunned, I walked into the crowded, narrow dining room.
Small tables were set closely together, and a bar at the front offered alcoholic beverages with labels I couldn’t even read. A waiter came up to us and upon spotting Luca, he led us toward the back of the restaurant and gave us the last available table. The people at the table beside ours stared at Luca with wide eyes, probably wondering how he’d fit. I took the seat on the bench running the entire length of the room, and Luca folded himself into the chair across from me. The man beside him shifted his chair to the side, so Luca would have more room. Did they know who he was or were they being polite?
“You look surprised,” Luca said after the waiter had taken our drink orders and left us with the menu.
“I didn’t think you’d go for Asian food, considering everything.” That was all I could say in a crowded restaurant, but Luca knew I was talking about the Taiwanese Triad.
“This is the best Asian restaurant in town, and it doesn’t belong to an Asian chain.”
I frowned. Was it under the protection of the Famiglia?
“It’s independent.”
“There are independent restaurants in New York?”
The couple at the table beside us gave me a strange look. For them our conversation probably seemed more than a little weird.
“A few, but we’re in negotiations right now.”
I snorted.
Luca pointed at my menu. “Do you need help?”
“Yeah, I’ve never tried Korean.”
“The marinated silk tofu and the bulgogi beef are delicious.”
“You eat tofu?”
Luca shrugged. “If it’s prepared like this, then yes.”
I shook my head. This was surreal. “Just order what you think is best. I eat everything except for liver.”
“I like women that eat more than salad.”
The waiter returned and took our orders. I fumbled with the chopsticks, trying to figure out the best way to use them.
“Have you never used sticks before?” Luca asked with a smirk. Was he mocking me?
“My parents only took us to their favorite Italian restaurant, and I wasn’t really allowed to go anywhere alone.” Bitterness rang in my voice.
“You can go anywhere you want now.”
“Really? Alone?”
Luca lowered his voice. “With Romero or me, or Cesare when Romero isn’t available.”
Of course.
“Here, let me show you.” He took his own chopsticks and held them up. I tried to imitate his grip and after a few tries, I managed to move the sticks without dropping them. When our food arrived, I realized that it was much harder to grab on to something with sticks.
Luca watched with obvious amusement as I took three tries to bring a piece of tofu to my lips.
“No wonder New York girls are so thin if they eat like this all the time.”
“You are more beautiful than all of them,” he said. I scanned his face, trying to figure out if he was being truthful, but as usual his face was unreadable. I allowed myself to admire his eyes. They were unusual, with their darker ring around the gray. They weren’t exactly cold right now, but I remembered them being that way.
Luca snatched a piece of marinated beef and held it out in front of me. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. Luca mirrored my expression, but his was more challenging. I leaned forward
