Page 80 of His Dark Vendetta

“Oh my god,” I groaned with the first mouthful, and my eyes rolled back. “You really can cook.”

“Told ya.” He took a bite, and his eyebrows drew together in concentration as he chewed. “I was skeptical about the substitutions.”

“Most people are, but it’s not bad, right?”

He stabbed a piece of lobster and twirled spaghetti onto his fork. “Not bad at all. It’s different, but I’d eat it again.” He shoveled the tremendous bite into his mouth.

“Thank you.” I sipped my wine, needing to hide the emotion clogging my throat.

“It was nothing,” he said through the mouthful. “I don’t get to cook very often. It was a great excuse to dust off the old pots and pans.”

“No, I mean, for taking the time to…” I frowned, looking for words in my plate. “To accommodate my…” I waved my fork through the air. “My whole deal.”

“Accommodate?” He set his napkin on the counter. “I already told you—it’s not a burden.”

“It feels like a burden. Even to me sometimes. You’re the first person who’s taken the time to do something like this, so, thank you.”

He examined me a moment longer.

“Shouldn’t we get our story straight about what happened last night?” I asked, desperate to change the subject.

“I thought that’s what we were doing.” He waggled his eyebrows.

I laughed and swatted him on the arm despite the heat creeping up my neck and pooling between my thighs. “You know what I mean. When you got home. When you left in the morning. That kind of thing.”

He narrowed his eyes, finished chewing, and pointed at me with his fork. “Ten p.m. You were here the entire time—I’ll let the girls know—and I left to meet Vito in Framingham at the jail at eight-thirty.”

I frowned. “Why did you go to the jail? What happened last night? Is Dominic okay?”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “You grew up in this world. You know better than to ask those kinds of questions. You want to be an accessory after the fact?” He brought his wine to his lips and raised his eyebrows.

“No,” I said sullenly and stabbed a piece of lobster. “Sorry. You’re right. It’s been a long time since I’ve been around this stuff on a day-to-day basis.” I twirled my fork in the creamy spaghetti. “I’m just worried about Dominic.”

“Dom’s fine. I stopped by to see him before my meetings this afternoon. He’s a little grumpy,” he said with a comforting smile, “but I promise—he’s fine.”

I believed him, but an uneasiness nagged at my nerves. A quiet warning that said, get out! Stay away from this man and run far, far away!

Dominic might be okay, but he’d been shot, someone was in jail, and the FBI had shown up at Luca’s door. Each of those events in and of themselves should have been enough to make me redouble my efforts at escape or at the very least resolve to buy the first ticket out of Boston as soon as he let me go. But the moment Luca crossed that final line, the moment he touched me, every instinct telling me to run vanished.

I had no idea what any of this meant—probably nothing—but this thing between us, this force driving us together despite everything working against us, wouldn’t allow me to pull back. Never mind our enemy families. Never mind his macho, playboy antics. Never mind his dark vendetta. I wanted Luca Moretti even if he seemed determined to destroy us both.

“Don’t you ever get sick of those old movies?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“Those old movies you watch. Seems like every time I walk past the living room, you’re watching a movie from before either of us was born.”

“Way older than that, actually,” I said and took a bite of pasta.

“Don’t you get tired of watching the same things over and over again?”

I shrugged a shoulder. “Don’t you get tired of eating pasta?”

He glared at me, and I stuck the tip of my tongue between my teeth. His eyes lingered on my mouth, and damn if that one look didn’t send heat straight to my core.

I cleared my throat. “In all seriousness, no. They’re a comfort. Like old friends. I started watching them as a kid. Da brought home a VHS player—probably lifted.” I shot Luca a knowing look. He let out a snort and nodded, no doubt familiar with new electronics magically appearing in his home growing up. “Mam was watchingDouble Indemnityone night. Rented it from the local Blockbuster. Remember those?”

“Not really. I mean, I know what they are, but we’d moved to Italy by then.”

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