Page 72 of Sweet Retribution

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Iwake up alone. Thedrapes cover the windows making Stone’s bedroom completely dark. I have no idea what time or day it is. All I know is I’m alone. The space next to me is cool and empty.

Giving myself time to adjust to the dark, and my body time to wake up, I roll to my side and smile. Despite the pure hell I’ve lived in the past few days, heck, my entire life, I have a reason to smile.

In such a short amount of time, Stone has become an integral part of my life, and a part of mother’s life, even if she isn’t aware of it. He’s saved me in so many ways. Physically, emotionally, mentally. Without him, I’d still be working at the diner in San Diego, constantly looking over my shoulder, worried about being found, worried about mom’s health and who would take care of her while I work.

I’m pretty sure I love him. Without having role models in my life, or even friends who are truly in love, I’m not sure if it’s hero worship or lust. Either way, Stone makes mefeel,and he makes me smile.

I roll out of bed and pull back the drapes and step out onto the balcony. The sun is high in the sky, and the breeze off the water caresses my face. Remnants from my last night’s dinner litter the table. My robe and Stone’s sweatpants are in a heap on the ground.

Chuckling, I pick them up and shrug into the robe. I stack the plates on the tray and send a silent apology to Maria for wasting such a beautiful spread. The fruit is still good, so I eat a handful of berries and carry the rest into the room.

I’m about to open the door when I second guess my actions. Walking through Stone’s house in only a robe would be acceptable if we were alone. Between Sebastiana, his men, and his staff, the house is always bustling with people, even if I can’t see them.

I set the tray on a table by his door, then return to my room to shower and dress. Missing my mother, I dial her up on my iPad. We talk for nearly an hour, mama babbling on about the cold weather and the turkey feast her staff made her eat last week.

“In America, they celebrate Thanksgiving by eating more food than any human should consume in one sitting.”

I laugh. “That’s saying a lot coming from an Italian.”

“It was delicious, but I’m missing my gravy. People around here don’t know how to make it like it should be.”

Mother used to make the best sauce and gravy, but her dementia is so bad she doesn’t remember all the ingredients or how much of each spice to add. “The next time I visit, we’ll make giant batches of gravy, and pasta from scratch.”

My cooking lessons from Maria would pay off.

“Do you still enjoy your work, mia amia?”

I think of Stone and smile. “Yes. Very much.”

“Good. You deserve happiness.”

When mama’s mind begins to wander and her speech slows, I tell her to take a nap and promise to visit soon.

I return my tablet to my bedside table and go downstairs to ask Maria if she can give me another cooking lesson.

Hours later, when the manicotti comes out of the oven, I go to set the dining room table.

“Why so many plates?” Maria asks from behind.

“Oh, are the men away?”

She wrinkles her brow. “Sebastiana went back home, Stone is traveling with Marco and Tio. It’s only Lucca here, but he’s fast asleep.”

“Stone’s traveling?”

Her face falls as if realizing she has to break sad news. “I assumed you knew, I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay.” I feign nonchalance. I want to ask if she knows how long he’ll be gone, but I’m afraid to hear the answer.

“Lucca will know more.” She pats my shoulder. “Those boys keep their business hush-hush. I say as Stone’s wife, you have a right to know what’s going on. But it’s none of my business.”

She loops her arm through mine and guides me back to the kitchen. We eat at the counter while I dodge questions about the scrapes on my arms, telling her I got caught up in prickle brush during one of my runs.

I don’t think she believes me, but we carry on about the menu for the rest of the week, scaling it back quite a bit since it’s only us and Lucca to feed.

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