Page 87 of Sins of Bliss

“No. She said she would be home at three-thirty.”

He checks the Rolex on his wrist. “It’s only a little after four. Was she at work?”

“Sì.”

“Maybe she’s playing catch up.” He takes a long sip of the latte he made. “You did whisk her away unexpectedly for two weeks.”

“You’re right,” I say, determined to believe that justification, even if it doesn’t feel right. Looking down at my phone again, I click the side button to illuminate the screen, checking the time again.

“So,” Sully starts, and I can tell he is about to change the subject. Leaning on the counter with both elbows, he gives me a megawatt smile. “Tell me about Vinnie’s hot older friend.”

Instantly, my blood boils. “No.”

He looks offended by my instant irritation. “Wow, someone’s touchy today.”

“If the only descriptors you can think to speak of are her age and her attractiveness, then I fail to see the point in continuing the conversation.”

He huffs an exasperated breath. “They’re theonlythings I know about her. Currently. But I want to know more.”

“She is too mature for you, Sullivan.” I look down at my phone again. Only a minute has passed.

“How is that fair?”

“It’s accurate,” I snap. “Cecilia longs for a family—for a husband and a child.Children. She is older and wiser than you, and knows exactly what she wants for her life. Can you say the same?”

Running a hand through his haphazardly styled dirty-blond hair, he casts his eyes downward. “I don’t know what I want.”

It’s the most honest thing I’ve ever heard him say, and if I’m being truthful, it breaks my heart a little to hear. “And there’s nothing wrong with that. One day, you will. Until then, you are simply you, mio amico.”

Without responding, he turns to the sink to clean his mug, but I can tell my words have gotten under his skin. An apology is on the tip of my tongue, but I decide against it. He needs to take a serious evaluation of his life, and perhaps this will be a nudge in the right direction.

Feeling as though I’m going crazy, I pick up my phone and try calling Vincenza again. The ring echoes in my ear as I silently pray for her to answer. When she doesn’t, worry dips in my stomach.

“Hi! You’ve reached Vinnie, I’m sorry I missed your call?—”

Hanging up, I immediately dial her office. When it goes to the after hours recording, I nearly hurl my phone across the room as the nagging feeling in my gut intensifies.

Sully looks at me with expectant eyes, so I tell him, “She’s not answering her cell phone, and her office went to voicemail.”

“She’s probably on her way over. Relax, buddy. She’s not even an hour late.”

“It’s just not like her to not communicate.” And it’s not. We speak frequently throughout the day, whether it be quick phone conversations or messages exchanged. In fact, I can’t recall a time she hasn’t answered my call.

Until now.

“Maybe she ran into a friend, or is picking up a surprise for you? You guys are romantic like that.”

It could be, but still, I’m not convinced, and I can’t ignore the concern I feel. Scrolling through my contacts, I find Luciano’s number and get him on the phone.

“When was the last time you spoke with your sister?” I ask the moment he answers.

“Hello to you too, Lucchetti. I talked to V earlier today. Why?”

“How long ago?” I demand.

Through the phone, I hear a drawer close—or maybe a door. “Maybe three hours ago? Give or take. I warned her about your friend and his possible advances toward Cecilia tonight.”

“Where was she when you spoke? Still at her apartment?”

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