Page 63 of The Thief

“It doesn’t bother you?”

She shrugs. “It is what it is. You are who you are. People are going to talk.”

She doesn’t particularly sound perturbed, but I still don’t like it. Lucia takes in my expression, and a smile darts on her lips. “You’re glowering, and our poor waiter looks terrified. Let’s change the topic. It’s my turn again. I looked you up. According to the Internet, you’ve dated a string of women, but you’ve never been in a relationship.”

“Is there a question there?”

“Is that true?”

“Yes.”

She leans forward, barely paying attention to the second course. “Why?”

“I’ve never met anyone I want to be in a relationship with.”

“That’s not a real answer,” she accuses. “You’re telling me that in that long line of women, there’s never been anyone you could see yourself settling down with? Why not?”

“Maybe I’ve been haunted by the memory of a girl with grief-stricken green eyes stumbling through the docks, clutching a bottle of vodka.”

Lucia sucks in a breath. “I don’t know what to say to that,” she says unsteadily. “I don’t know what you want from me.”

Everything.

“It’s my turn. I’m going to ask you the same question you asked me. Why do you avoid relationships?”

She fiddles with her napkin. “You already know why.”

“Do I? Tell me again.”

“Love is pain, Antonio. Love is loss. I’ve already lost everything once. I won’t risk it again.”

“Your parents died, and that was awful. But we all die in the end, Lucia. Death doesn’t discriminate. It’s what we do with the time we have that counts.” I hold her gaze in mine. “I’d rather take a chance on love than go through life without it.”

But even as I say that, I spot Goran moving to the door of the restaurant, his hand on the grip of his gun. Someone’s trying to come inside, even though the restaurant is closed, and my guards are instantly on high alert.

Then Goran steps aside and waves the person inside, and it’s one of the chefs. No danger here; it’s just a false alarm.

But it leaves me uneasy for the rest of the night because it’s a sobering reminder that I need to stay away from Lucia. What am I doing, gambling with her safety in such a reckless way? Ten years ago, I was ready to murder Marco and his friends because they tried to harm Lucia. But she was never in as much danger from Marco as she will be if she’s with me.

Am I really so selfish that I’m willing to risk her?

33

LUCIA

There’s some kind of minor commotion at the door, but I’m not paying attention to that. My mind is still stuck on Antonio’s words.

We all die in the end, Lucia. Death doesn’t discriminate. It’s what we do with the time we have that counts. I’d rather take a chance on love than go through life without it.

After dessert, he takes me back to his place, and we make love. Antonio is tender when I need it and hard when I crave it, and he wrings orgasm after toe-curling orgasm from my body.

He draws me a bath after. My head is still spinning, and I should tell him I want to be alone, but instead, I invite him to join me in the tub. It’s not until he asks me to spend the night that common sense finally reasserts itself.

“I have to go,” I tell him, a spike of fear going through me at how reluctantly I say those words. I’ve never spent the night with a man; I’ve never even been tempted. Sex is one thing, but sleeping with someone? That’s a bridge too far. That’s intimacy, and I’ve protected myself from it all my adult life.

I can’t stop now. I can’t let my guard down around Antonio. It’s too risky to let him in.

“Unlike some people, I don’t work for myself and can’t set my own hours. I have to be at the museum in. . .” I glance at my phone and groan. “Five hours. Shit.”

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