Page 86 of His Dark Vendetta

Her gaze landed on the living room—“Oh!”—and she shut the door behind her. “Hello.”

I scrambled up from the couch, silently thanking God I put a bra and my own clothes on that morning. I smoothed my hair out of my face.

“Signora DeVita.” Dominic walked over to her and held out his hands. “Let me get that for you.”

She swatted him away. “Nonsense, Dominic. I know where everything is. Just dropping this off. I wasn’t sure he’d be home, but…” She jangled her keys.

She set the lasagna on the island along with her keys and sunglasses and fixed her big brown eyes on me. “Ms. Connelly. What a surprise.”

“Ms. DeVita. It’s nice to see you again.” My GM persona snapped into place despite my lack of makeup, professional attire, or even shoes.

She regarded me strangely with a slight tilt of her head. After a heartbeat, she blinked and opened the fridge. “Oh!”

Each “Oh!” from Gina DeVita made me increasingly self-conscious. I racked my brain for something to say and, more importantly, how to make this not awkward. For all intents and purposes, this woman was Luca’s mother, and I was… I didn’t know what the hell I was. Regardless, no ending to that sentence was anything but awkward.

“I’ve never seen more than condiments and leftovers in this fridge,” she mumbled and moved a few items around. She took the tray of lasagna off the island and slid it into the fridge. She closed the door and clasped her hands in front of her. “Bene. Luca knows what to do.” She glanced between me and Dominic like she didn’t know where to address her explanation. “I’m glad he’ll have some friends to share it with when he gets home.”

Dominic shot me an uneasy look, clearly as thrown off by Gina’s unexpected arrival as I was.

“Dominic, how’s your mamma?” Gina asked.

“She’s good.”

“Still working at the Italian American Community Club?”

“Yup. I don’t think she’ll ever retire.”

Gina chuckled. “No, I don’t think she will. Tell her I said hello.”

“Naturalmente, signora.”

“Bene.”

Silence gripped the kitchen and living room, holding us hostage. I shifted my weight and smiled, shocked by my inability to make small talk. Small talk was part of my job, practically a requirement in the hospitality industry, but I couldn’t get past the sinking feeling in my gut. Luca and I had been living in a bubble for the past three days, completely cut off from the real world and consequences, and Gina DeVita’s presence popped my half of our bubble, an abrupt reminder that whatever it was Luca and I were doing had an expiration date.

“Ms. Connelly,” Gina said with a smile. “We never get a chance to chat. Every time we see each other we’re so busy with work. I was going to stop for caffè before heading back to the city. Would you care to join me?”

I glanced at Dominic, hoping for an assist. He stared at me with an expression that said, “I have no idea what to do here.”

“That sounds lovely, Ms. DeVita. And please, call me Siobhán.”

“Siobhán. Such a beautiful name. Call me Gina. Signora DeVita is my mother.” She laughed, and I let out a nervous chuckle. “Dominic, you don’t mind if I steal Siobhán for an hour or so, do you?” She grabbed her glasses and keys off the island.

“Of course not. I was about to leave anyway. Just stopped by to say hi.”

“Eccellente!” She turned to me. “Ready?”

“I’ll put on my shoes!”

* * *

There wasno shortage of Italian bakeries in Boston, and Saugus was no different. A lot of Italians had moved out of the city to the northern suburbs just like the Irish had moved further South into Dorchester. Over the past few decades, Saugus and Revere had turned into the new Little Italys of Boston.

Gina’s Mercedes was a quiet comfort compared to Luca’s aggressive Ferrari. The budding greenery and suburban sprawl went by in calm silence with only soft classical music in the background. A short time later, Gina pulled into a strip mall parking lot.

“I’ll be honest,” she said, “you’re probably the last person I expected to see at Luca’s house this afternoon.” Her words were teasing, but her smile was warm and kind. It held no judgment, just curiosity and perhaps a little hope.

I’d only spoken to Gina at charity events or when she stopped by Terme to have lunch with Marco. We hadn’t exchanged more than pleasantries and small talk, but the calm drive and her motherly mien settled my nerves.

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