Page 49 of Now and Forever

“Then we should work as a team because I care about his happiness too.”

The microwave beeped.

She offered me the closest thing to a genuine smile since my arrival. “Mrs. Luciano, your dinner. I can return it to the dining room and make sure everything else is fresh.”

“I’ll eat in the kitchen, but first, I need to talk to Armando.” My heels clicked on the marble as I made my way through the archway where he’d been standing, gun at the ready.

As I approached the sitting room, I heard the din of his deep voice. Speeding my steps, I opened the French doors and crossed my arms over my breasts, my stare boring into my bodyguard. He turned and disconnected the call.

“Please don’t do that,” I said, relaxing my arms. I’d heard enough of his conversation to know he’d spoken with Dario.

“Ma’am, you’re my job. What just happened in there was unnecessary. I should have been paying closer attention. Mr. Luciano wants to stay informed.”

“He should try informing me directly.”

Armando looked down at the phone in his hand. “Mr. Luciano texted. He said he’d pick you up in twenty minutes. He’s taking you out to dinner.”

“I don’t need a pity dinner. Contessa warmed up my meal.”

“It’s been a rough day on the streets,” Armando said. “That’s probably why I let time slip away from me. I heard what you told Contessa—that you want this marriage to work. Mr. Luciano does too. Try to remember that he has other demands on his time.”

Swallowing, I nodded. I understood Dario’s demands better than most. I’d lived with a father who was always torn in three or four different directions. Dario was next in line to rule Kansas City. It made sense that he too was busy.

“I can inform Contessa of the change of plans,” Armando offered.

“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll talk to her and then go upstairs for my purse. I assume you’ll accompany me down to the garage since I don’t have one of those magic cards.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

I found Contessa in the kitchen, stirring the béarnaise sauce in a small pan on the range top. “Contessa.”

When she looked up, I tried unsuccessfully to read her expression.

“Mrs. Luciano, I owe you an apology.”

I shook my head. “Let’s call it even. You know Mr. Luciano better than I do. If he decided at the last minute to take me to dinner, should I refuse and stay here to eat your lovely dinner?”

Her cheeks rose and her lips curled into a smile. “No, ma’am. You should go. His time is his most valuable commodity. I’d assume he realized the error of his ways with his delay and lack of communication. He’s a kind man. I suppose that he too is trying to make this marriage work.”

“Kind?” I questioned. “Contessa, I’m aware of what Dario does.”

“Yes, at work. I don’t know that man. I know the one I’ve worked for, the one few people have the privilege of knowing.”

Wrapping my arms around my midsection, I thought about last night, how he didn’t cut the dress and how he took my first time slowly. I nodded. “It seems like a contradiction.”

“I like to think of it as balance.”

My smile returned. “I’ll be happy to eat leftovers for lunch tomorrow.”

“Breakfast is at seven thirty” —she paused— “unless you’d like yours at a different time.”

“If Dario eats at seven thirty, I will too.”

“Do you have any diet restrictions I should know about?”

I felt my cheeks rise. “Only that I eat anything. And I love béarnaise sauce.”

Contessa opened a drawer and removed a spoon. Next, she dipped it into the saucepan, skimming the drips on the side of the pan and lifting the spoon. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

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