Page 62 of Her Dark Salvation

“Luca isn’t really your nephew, is he? He’s your best friend’s son?”

I swallowed, relieved she wasn’t heading back to the previous topic, and washed ricotta and ragu down with more wine. “That’s right. But Tony and I considered each other brothers. Tony had Luca calling me zio as soon as he could talk.”

“He doesn’t look that much younger than you.”

“Tony was older than me,”by a year, “and he had Luca when he was very young,”by blood demon standards. “And I’m older than I look,”by almost forty-five years.

“How old?”

“Older than you,” I said and winked.

Her sexy laugh floated across the table. “And a sister?”

“Yes.”

“Younger or older?”

“Younger, although you’d never know by the way she talks to me.”

“I’d pay to see that,” she said through a devious smile. “Siobhán mentioned your sister is involved in your family charity? The one benefitting from the gala next weekend?”

“She is. Especially the ESL programs. Papà struggled with English.”

Her smile warmed. “It’s such a good cause.”

“Speaking of which…”

I set down my knife and fork and held out my hand. She glanced at it, confused, then tentatively placed her hand in mine.

“Come with me to the charity gala next weekend.”

Her eyebrows shot to her forehead. “I—uh—” She swallowed. “Are you sure?”

I ran my thumb over the backs of her fingers. “Of course, I’m sure. Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“Won’t there be, you know, a lot of important people there? Won’t they—won’t they wonder why you brought your assistant?”

“You’re an important person. To your students, to your field. To me.”

She lowered her eyes, and a flush crept across her cheeks. Her hand twitched as if she meant to pull it away. I tightened my grip, and she seized her necklace with her other hand instead. “Thank you,” she said shyly. “But you know what I mean.”

“I do know what you mean. I never bring a date to these things, much to my sister’s chagrin, but no one will be wondering why I brought you. They’ll be wondering how I got so lucky.”

She looked up, beaming. Her eyes sparkled beneath the candlelight and made my heart ache with affection.

“With an invitation like that, how can a girl say no?”

I squeezed her hand, fighting the urge to smile like I’d just been crowned Emperor of Rome.

We finished our meals with comfortable, easy conversation about the chef’s talent, the sublime wine pairing, and the peaceful ambiance. Anna picked up her napkin, dabbed the corners of her mouth, and placed it on the table next to her empty plate.

“That was so good. I feel like one of those raviolis—totally stuffed.”

“No room for dessert?”

Her hands went to her waist. “Even if I could, I’m not sure anything else would fit in this dress.”

“You look stunning.”

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