Page 11 of The Mafia's Seamstress

I had so many questions but maybe I wasn’t ready to face them yet. I chewed my bottom lip coming to the conclusion I would rather live in my bubble for one more night. With shaky hands I grabbed the pants from Mr. Costa as he came out from the dressing room. He stared at me with worried filled eyes.

"Nothing has ever happened to your grandfather in this shop. It’s safe," he assured me. I didn’t ask for this confession but I felt relief in it. I still wondered how long this twisted relationship my avô was in has gone. Would I have to carry it on? Taking a deep breath I gave him a hard look.

“That may be the case for him. But one day this will be my shop. And if history has taught us anything it has taught us that men will use women to get to other men,” I said and began walking towards the front of the shop. “You can’t assure me that when this place is mine that my safety or this shop won’t be used as a pawn,” I said over my shoulder.

I packed his pants in my bag, planning to continue sewing it at home. Mr. Costa passed me on the way to the front door. His hand hovered over the doorknob while his gray gaze rooted me to the ground.

“That’s true Ms. Silva. But are you a pawn?”

Today there were no appointments and the shop was peaceful. I sewed, stitched and cut fabric to distract myself. It was another sleepless night of my head being consumed with questions. Why my avô? How did he get mixed in this? How much were my parents involved? Why did no one tell me? I wanted to call my avô but I knew he was too busy in England.

Before I knew it, Mr. Costa’s pants and Amalia's dress for the upcoming charity were finished. My hands were killing me and the headache from yesterday was still hanging around in the outskirts of my brain. Putting everything away I gritted my teeth.

A dull ache that began on the left side of my head was spreading. Yesterday I ignored the headache but another one today was a signal of something else coming. But I didn’t want to think about it. I took a deep breath, gathering my things. It was late afternoon and soon Mr. Costa would be here for his appointment. I just needed to go over inventory, have him try on the clothes and then go home.

The bell above the door rang. Turning around it was Luca. His blonde hair was gelled back. He wore a gray suit that made his blue eyes stand out.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. My stomach tightened. Hopefully it was something clothing related and nothing else. I really didn't need this right now. He placed his hands in his pockets.

"I did say I’ll see you around,” he said with a grin. I rolled my eyes.

“I didn’t think ‘around’ meant the next day. We must have different definitions,” I said looking back at my inventory list. We needed more black satin, threads and needles.

“What can I say? I couldn’t get your sweet smile out of my head,” he said with a grin. While Mr. Costa was brooding and dark but Luca was the sun, pulling everyone into his gravity.

“What do you need?” I said asking in my customer service voice. Luca’s eyes glanced around the shop and I lowered my hand beneath the counter. We had an emergency button that alerted the cops.

While I hoped I didn’t need to use it I watched Luca’s eyes travel to the corners of the shop. I inwardly cursed. We were supposed to install cameras during the summer but we started getting orders for the fall festivities and that plan was forgotten.

“Need? What if I simply needed your presence?” he asked. I scoffed.

“Mr. Benanti, we had a five minute conversation. Don’t tell me it only took a few sentences from a beautiful face to win you over,” I said. Luca walked over to the register and my finger touched the side of the alarm button.

“I’d prefer if you would call me Luca. Mr. Benanti is so formal,” he said. I rubbed the alarm button once. His eyes remained trained on me but he rested a hand on the counter, his fingers drumming.

“It’s formal because of the status of our relationship,” I said simply.

“And how do I change that?” he asked. A giggle escaped me before I could stop it. I’ve heard stories about the mafia my whole life. Hell, I read mafia romance books. With everything I’ve read and heard about the mafia, Mr. Costa completed the description. But Luca? He seemed to be the opposite. Did this golden retriever of a man have a bite? Or was he all bark?

“I don’t like mixing business with pleasure. Now tell me, is there anything you need from Silva’s Seamstress Shop?” I asked. My hand fell away from the button and I began updating the inventory list I had on a spreadsheet. Luca leaned away from the counter, taking his hand away.

"Dante told me to come by and hang until he got here," he said. I snorted.

"I don't need a babysitter from men I hardly know,” I said. “Even if they're friends with my avô," I added.

“He sent me to watch a beautiful woman. Can’t say I’m mad about it,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders. I narrowed my eyes at the blonde beauty.

"I'm not getting in between you and your cousin," I said, typing on my laptop. The dull ache was coming back harder. I could feel its tendrils spreading across the left side of my head. I took deep breaths through my nose.

"Why not? That sounds like a nice position," he said. My stomach clenched. I looked up at him, assessing. He had an easygoing smile and the look in his eyes promised delicious mischief. Luca was just as tempting as Mr. Costa.

“Who says I want to be in any sort of position with you and Mr. Costa?" I asked, titling my head up in defiance towards him. Luca leaned against the counter and I was again smothered in his cologne. Dear God, did all mafia men smell this delicious? His scent was a mixture of citrus, cardamom and cedar this time.

“Your blushing face says otherwise," he said with a crooked grin. My eyes snapped back towards my laptop and I waved him away.

“Just sit in the corner and stay quiet," I demanded.

"Don't worry, I'll be enjoying the view,” he said, walking towards the door. With a wink he flipped the sign close and sat down.

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