Page 79 of The Thief

I touch the bracelet. It probably cost more money than I’ve ever made in my life, but that’s not why I’m struggling to keep from tearing up. After all, Antonio is the richest person in Italy. He has plenty of money.

But, like the furniture he bought me, like the blue-and-white vase filled with spring blooms he sent me at work, this isthoughtful.He knows how important my mother’s pendant is to me, and he’s given me a gift that complements it.

Through his words and actions, he’s showing me that he wants me in his life.

I can’t find the words to express how much this bracelet means to me, but I look up, and the gentle warmth in his eyes tells me that maybe I don’t need to. “Thank you,” I whisper. “It’s beautiful.”

He kisses my cheek tenderly and offers me his arm. “Shall we?”

* * *

La Buona Tavolais one of many small trattorias that dot the Campo Santi Giovanni e Paolo. From the outside, it looks indistinguishable from the dozens of small restaurants in Venice. But true insiders know better. Claudia Marino is an amazing cook, and her food is to die for.

Four bodyguards surround us on the five-minute walk to the restaurant. Two in front, two in the back. Antonio looks faintly unhappy but otherwise ignores them, and taking a cue from him, I do, too.

“Can you walk in those?” Antonio asks, glancing at my boots. “They look uncomfortable.”

They are hideously uncomfortable, and no, I can’t walk in them for any distance. Although if I say that to Antonio, he’s more than capable of carrying me. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“I know.” He takes my hand in his and frowns. “Lucia, you’re freezing.”

I am. It’s chillier than I anticipated, and my wrap isn’t enough to keep me warm. I open my mouth to tell him we’re almost there, but before I can do that, he removes his coat and drapes it over my shoulders.

Warmth hugs me. “Thank you.” I come to a stop outside the restaurant. “We’re here. It’s not as nice as Quadri, I know?—”

He chuckles. “I grew up on the streets, cara mia. I remember pressing my nose to the windows of places like this, fantasizing about a future where I could afford to order anything on the menu.” He squeezes my hand. “Also, Signora Marino is a great cook.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Not in years. How do you know it?”

One of Antonio’s men enters the restaurant to check it out for threats. We’re supposed to wait until he gives us the okay to enter. Once again, I do my best to ignore the heightened security.

“I’ve known Claudia and Miriam since I was a child. My mother used to babysit them. We were here the day they opened this place.” I smile at the memory. “I was thirteen. I didn’t want to be here; I wanted to stay home and watch TV. But Claudia bribed me with apple fritters.”

Antonio’s bodyguard comes out and nods to us. “Shall we sit by the window?” I ask with slightly forced cheer. “La Buona Tavola is a seat yourself kind of place.”

I’m not going to lie: the precautions are getting to me. They’re making me remember that Antonio is at war with a rival mafia, and the situation is serious enough that Valentina and Angelica have moved in with Dante for protection. They’re making me realize that the man I’ve fallen in love with will always be in danger, and I could lose him in the blink of an eye.

Antonio gives me a careful look as if to gauge the extent of my irritation. But he has it wrong. I’m not irritated.I’m afraid.

“Sure.” He pulls out my chair for me. “I’m sorry about this.”

I’m about to tell him it’s fine when one of the bodyguards walks into the restaurant. “Padrino, may I?—”

“No,” Antonio snaps without looking at the guy. “Go away.”

The man retreats without another word. Antonio looks frustrated. “Once again, I’m truly sorry.” He grimaces. “This is not how I wanted this date to go.”

I place my hand on his. “It’s fine,” I say. “It’s your life. I get it.”

“It’s not normally my life.” He runs his hand through his hair. “This is temporary, I promise.”

I hope so. I smile at him. “I’m starving. Let’s get some wine and order some cicchetti?”

“Sure.”

Another man walks into the restaurant. “Padrino, I’m sorry to interrupt. May I have a word, please?” It’s phrased as a request, but his tone makes it clear he’s not going away until he talks to his boss.

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