Page 101 of Of Murder and Matrimony

“What is your specialty?” He didn’t take the hint. He seemed determined to act like a normal human with his innocuous conversation. “I can’t remember whether your father ever told me.”

“He died before I got that far.” Memories of my past came rushing back, how I’d stayed away and mourned very little. My father’s passing pushed me to work harder in my pursuits. “I didn’t choose a specialty. I’m a general practitioner. Though I’ve spent a lot of time working with children.”

“You like children?”

“They complain less than my adult patients.”

That drew a genuine smile from Ettore. He looked so much like Dante when he smiled. How odd that he was capable of interacting with no apparent ulterior motive. I didn’t trust his kindness, though.

Martina returned to take our plates, but when I moved to push my chair back, Ettore held up a hand to stop me.

“Please, stay,” he implored, and I stilled. “Martina is bringing dessert.”

His smooth words were fucking with my head, blurring his misdeeds and making me question myself. He was a horrible person. You wouldn’t find a soul to sing Ettore’s praises, but what if he wasn’t rotten to the core? The physician part of me tried to create a list of symptoms I’d observed.

Ettore drank more than I would consider normal. Could he be self-medicating for pain? Alcohol, drug use, or medical conditions like dementia might cause his erratic behavior. It would be early onset in a man his age, but it wasn’t impossible. It could also explain why he seemed lucid one moment and completely unhinged the next.

Martina came and cleared our plates, then returned with a beautifully iced cake topped with fresh fruit. I leaned forward as she sliced and plated it.

“Cassata.” Ettore’s smoothly accented explanation rolled off his tongue, taking a forkful of the dessert. “Please, enjoy. It’s one of my favorites.”

I slipped a bite of cake past my lips, and my eyes closed. The sponge was slightly sweet, the candied fruits and marzipan melding perfectly. My tongue tingled, and I finished the entire slice in record time.

Ettore chuckled when I served myself a second slice, then stood and walked to the bar cart. While his back was turned, I scarfed down the rest of my cake and contemplated a third slice.

He returned to the table with two glasses of white wine, setting one by my plate and sitting with his. “This will pair well with the cake.”

That decided it. I took a third small slice, stabbing a maraschino cherry with my first bite. I swallowed and reached for the wine, the cool liquid trickling down my throat. He’d been right. It was a perfect complement to the dessert.

Ettore seemed content to sit in companionable silence and watch me enjoy myself, and I didn’t feel the need to converse. So I sipped on the wine until I felt full; my stomach rounded from all the food and drink.

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair, embracing the start of my food coma. I would sleep well.

“Did you enjoy it?” Ettore asked with a smile, finally breaking the quiet.

“I did, thank you.” I covered a yawn with my palm and realized dusk had fallen, casting the yard outside the windows in an orange haze. “I think I’m going to make an early night of it.”

Ettore nodded and stood as I pushed my chair back. “Goodnight, Olesya. Rest well.”

“Goodnight.”

I stopped by the kitchen, but it was empty, all the surfaces shiny and freshly cleaned. Martina must have left early. I’d never asked, but she probably had better things to do on a Friday night than hang out with me.

Initially, I’d planned to invite her and Diego to watch movies with me to pass the time, but now I was too tired to bother texting Diego to see if he wanted to return to the house. I headed upstairs to my room, my steps slow from exhaustion. I must have worn myself out by stressing over Dante’s trip. And for nothing. The evening had gone just fine. Now I had to make it through two more days.

My bed beckoned, and I stripped out of my clothes and pulled a lightweight white cotton nightgown over my head. I barely brushed my teeth before I fell into bed, the world fading to black immediately.

When I awoke next, my head felt fuzzy, and it took great effort to open my eyes. I forced myself to focus, remembering I was in my bed. My throat was parched, and I needed a glass of water to rid my throat of the nagging dryness.

I turned to climb out of bed, but my hands were caught on something. Tilting my head up, I saw rope wrapped around my wrist, affixed to the wooden headboard. What was happening?

“You’re awake.”

My head turned too slowly as I sought the voice, finding Ettore standing beside the bed, looking down at me with a maniacal grin. He was nude, save for a pair of red boxer briefs, and I gagged at the sight of the bulge within.

“Just breathe,” he said soothingly. “Sometimes the medication can make your stomach upset.”

“What medication?” I heard myself slur.

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