Page 48 of Luca
Butterflies fluttered in my stomach. Weird things crackled in my chest and sparked, like a firecracker on the 4th of July. I pulled my eyes away from Luca and into a safety zone. The head of the Sicilian mafia.
“Can I join you two young people?” Pascale asked.
I immediately nodded my head. “Yes, yes. Of course, Mr. DiMauro.” It wasn’t as if I’d tell the head of the Sicilian mafia bugger off. He clicked his tongue. “No, no, no. You call meNonno.”
Huh? I looked at Luca and then at his grandfather. They both seemed awfully smug, smiling like two boys ready to stir a pot.
Luca stood up and helped lower his grandfather into the chair.
He smiled, taking my hand and squeezing it. “You still happy with Sicily?” I nodded. “And how is your job? Any new mishaps since last time I saw you?” he continued.
I looked back to Paolo who watched us all from his spot behind the bar.
“Every day in this tavern is a mishap,” I muttered under my breath.
Pascale chuckled. “Was Paolo too hard on you?”
I smiled sheepishly. “No. I’m afraid I’m a horrible waitress.”
Luca watched us, studying me like he wanted to figure me out while Pascale made a dismissive motion with his hand, his eyes shining with amusement. We had gotten acquainted over the last few weeks. He’d find his way to Paolo’s tavern and talk to me quite often.
“You are perfect,” Pascale said. “But better at killing people. No?” I exploded with laughter.
Of course, he’d remember what I said the first time we met.
ChapterTwenty-One
LUCA
She had changed.
It had nothing to do with the stage of her pregnancy.
It had only been a month since she left the States, but the changes were evident. At least to me they were.
There was a quiet humility to her that wasn’t there before.
Margaret and Nonno were talking about a beach that was nearby.
“Have you found yourself a nice Sicilian boy, Margaret?” Nonno asked. The old man was sly. It was the reason I didn’t mind accepting his help. He’d play a distressed grandfather and open the door for my plan of attack.
Margaret chuckled uncomfortably. “I’m afraid not,” she answered.
“Have you looked?” Nonno was determined when he wanted information.
She rolled her eyes, her blues sparkling like sapphires under the sun. “Paolo has kept me busy.” She lowered her eyes to her belly and rubbed her stomach. “And this little one wants me to sleep extra hours.”
Grandfather grinned. “Ah yes. I remember those days. My wife was always hungry and sleepy when she was pregnant. Especially with Penelope.”
Margaret’s eyes flickered to him, pensively. “Penelope,” she murmured softly. Her eyes flicked my way. “Your mom.”
Nonno nodded. “Yes, Luca and Cassio’s mother.”
Margaret's palm soothed her belly. Up and down. Up and down. “Penelope,” she murmured softly, as if she was tasting the name on her lips. She lowered her eyes to her stomach. “What do you think, Poppy?” She waited a bit as if she expected an answer. Heck, maybe she waited for two kicks for yes and one for no. Then as if she remembered she wasn’t alone, she met my grandfather’s gaze. “That’s a very pretty name.”
A shadow passed my grandfather’s face. “My wife picked it. It means one who is wise and our Penelope was wise. Except when she–”
He trailed off and I knew exactly what he meant to say. My mamma was wise until the day she got involved with Benito King. He had broken her. Destroyed her soft heart until she felt her only way out was by committing suicide.
