Page 87 of His Dark Vendetta

“I’m sure,” I said with an apologetic smile. “Sorry for throwing you off guard.”

“Don’t be silly. It was a wonderful surprise.”

The bell on the glass door of the bakery dinged when Gina pulled it open, and we walked into the inviting smells of fresh bread, sugar, coffee, and the lively din of conversation in English and Italian.

“I don’t know if you’re hungry, but they have a wonderful ricotta pie.” She laid her fingers on my arm and leaned in. “And today is my treat.”

“Thank you,” I said, considering my purse was locked in Luca’s entertainment center. “That’s kind of you.”

We waited in line, and the bustle of the bakery was a welcome change of pace from Luca’s living room. I eyed the menu and pastry case, searching for something I could eat. Gina ordered in Italian, then scooted me forward so I could place my order.

“I’d like an oat milk latte and—” I pointed at one of the tarts in the case. “Does that say olive oil crust?”

“Yes! I didn’t know you spoke Italian.”

I chuckled. “I don’t. The words just look familiar.”

“E una crostata all’olio d’oliva, per favore,” she said to the cashier.

“Thank you. I would have slaughtered that.”

She laughed, and the cashier handed us a number. We took it to a table close to the windows.

“You’re on vacation this week, is that right?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said. “How did you know?”

“Anna. She was—” She gave me a knowing smile. “Well. You know Anna. Bundle of nerves.”

“Understatement.”

“She’s worried about you. And Marco, of course. She wanted my advice about your leaving Terme di Boston.”

My mouth dropped open.

“Don’t be upset. Anna wants what’s best for you. She also knows my brother,” she added dryly and raised an eyebrow. “He can be a touch dramatic.”

I laughed.

“Have you been enjoying your time off?”

I snorted despite myself. She may have known about my job hunt, but there was no way she knew her foster son had kidnapped me, tried to throw me off the Tobin Bridge, decided against murder, and instead had been fucking me like a lion in heat for the past three days.

She canted her head and gave me a curious look.

“Sorry,” I said. “That’s a loaded question.”

I looked out the window. Images from that morning played back, a string of moments that made me smile and had butterflies dancing in my stomach.

He’d scooped me up out of bed while I was still asleep and naked from the night before and walked us into a steaming hot shower in the master bath. He washed my hair with the shampoo I’d bought when we went grocery shopping and massaged my scalp and shoulders with it. Holding me close, breathing me in. “I love this scent,” he’d said and ran his soapy hands up and down my body, each brush of his fingers and squeeze of his palms making me melt with longing and affection. He picked me up, wrapped my legs around his waist, and pressed my back into the cold tile. Under the hot spray, he made love to me, his kisses and thrusts slow and worshipful. I thought I must be dreaming, because I couldn’t imagine a happier time or being more in love.

“Siobhán?” Gina asked.

“Hm?” I turned back to face her, and a wide smile crinkled the laugh lines around her knowing eyes. My cheeks heated, no doubt flushing my freckled skin. “Sorry.” I tried to hide my embarrassment by examining my nails.

She chuckled and reached across the table to squeeze my hand. “It’s okay. I know that look,” she said with a wink. “But your secret is safe with me. The Lord knows my head is filled with things I’m not supposed to know. My lips are sealed.”

A server appeared at the table with our order, and I was grateful for the momentary reprieve.

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