87

When I woke up the next morning, Luca was gone. There was no note, not even a message on my phone.
He was really pissed off. I pulled the covers off. Bastard. He knew I didn’t know anyone in New York and yet he didn’t care. I grabbed my laptop and opened my e-mail account. Gianna had already sent me three new emails. The last one was almost threatening. I picked up the phone. Just hearing her voice was enough to make me feel better. I didn’t need Luca or anyone else as long as I had Gianna.
The smell of coffee and something sweeter eventually brought me out of the bedroom and downstairs. Pots clanged in the kitchen, and when I turned the corner I found a small, plump woman who looked old enough to be my grandmother at the stove, making pancakes. Her dark gray hair was secured with a hairnet. Romero was perched on a stool at the bar adjacent to the kitchen island, with a cup of coffee in front of him. He turned as I approached, his eyes observing my nightgown before he jerked his head away. Really?
The woman turned and smiled kindly. “You must be Aria. I’m Marianna.”
I reached out to shake her hand but she hugged me, pressing me against her broad chest. “You are a beauty, child. No wonder Luca is in love with you.
I swallowed a snide comment. “He smells delicious.”
“Sit down. Breakfast is ready in a couple of minutes. It’s enough for Romero and you.
I sat next to Romero on a stool. He was still looking explicitly the other way. “What’s your problem? I’m not naked,” I said when I couldn’t take it anymore.
Marianna laughed. “The boy is worried about Luca finding out that he’s been eyeing his girlfriend.”
I shook my head, irritated. If Romero insisted on acting like a coward, he would have to eat with his eyes closed. I wasn’t putting on my robe because I needed a bodyguard in my house.
*** I was already dozing when Luca came home that night. While he spent the day outside doing God knows what, I was a prisoner in that stupid attic. The only people keeping me company were Marianna and Romero, but she had left after making dinner and Romero was not exactly the most communicative company. I saw Luca coming out of the bathroom, freshly showered. He just recognized me. Did he think I cared? When he lay down beside me and turned off the lights, I said in the darkness. “Can I walk around town tomorrow?”
“As long as you take Romero with you,” was his brief reply.
I swallowed my pain and frustration. When he had taken me to his favorite restaurant I had thought he would try to make this marriage work, but it had only been a ploy to get me into bed. And now he punished me with the silent treatment.
But I didn’t need him, I would never need him. I fell asleep to the sound of his rhythmic breathing.
I awoke in the middle of the night from a nightmare. Luca’s arm was wrapped around me, my body clutched to his. I could have pulled away, but his closeness was too good. Part of me still wanted this marriage to work.
*** I missed Gianna and Lily so much, it was almost a physical thing.
Romero tried to be invisible but he was always there. “Do you want to go shopping?”
I almost laughed. Did he think shopping made everything better? Maybe it worked for some people, but definitely not for me. “No, but I would like to get something to eat. Gianna sent me an e-mail with some restaurants she wants to try when she visits. I’d like to go to one of them today.
Romero seemed uncertain for a moment and I exploded. “I asked Luca for permission a couple of nights ago, so you don’t have to worry. I’m allowed to leave this prison.”
He frowned. “I know. He told me.”
This was ridiculous. I left him standing in the middle of the living room and ran up the stairs to the bedroom. I quickly put on a nice summer dress and sandals and grabbed my purse and sunglasses before heading back downstairs. Romero had not moved from his seat. Why couldn’t he pretend to be something other than my bodyguard?
“Let’s go,” I ordered. If he wanted to act like my bodyguard, I would treat him that way. Romero slipped a jacket over his shirt to hide his holster, then pressed the elevator button. We didn’t talk on the way down. This was actually the first time I saw the lobby of the apartment building. It was a sleek, modern-art, glossy white, black marble counter behind which sat a middle-aged receptionist in a black suit. He tilted his head toward Romero before his eyes focused on me with obvious curiosity. “Good morning, Mrs. Vitiello,” he said in an overly polite voice. I almost stumbled at hearing him call me that. It was easy to forget that I was no longer a Scuderi. After all, my husband was never present.
I nodded in acknowledgement, then rushed out quickly. Heat hit my body as I left the air-conditioned building. Summer in the city, nothing to get excited about. The smell of exhaust and garbage seemed to spread through the streets like fog. Romero was a step behind me, and I wondered how he could stand the heat dressed like that.
“I think we should take a cab,” I said, as I approached the sidewalk. Romero shook his head but I had already raised my arm and a cab swerved to the side and stopped beside me.
*** Romero stayed a few steps behind, his eyes intently on my back. He was driving me crazy. People were giving us strange looks. “Can you please walk beside me?” I asked as we walked down Greenwich Street where the restaurant was located. “I don’t want people to think you’re protecting me.” He was probably still pissed that I had made him take a cab instead of the black BMW that screamed mobster from afar.
“I’m protecting you.”
I paused until he got into step beside me. The outside of the restaurant was surrounded by wildflowers growing in terracotta pots, and the inside reminded me of the English pubs I had read about. It seemed that all the waiters were tattooed and the tables were set so close together that you could have eaten from your neighbor’s plate. I could see why Gianna would love it.
Romero’s lips twisted in obvious disapproval. It was probably a bodyguard’s nightmare. ” Do you have a reservation?” asked a tall woman with a pierced septum.
“NO.” Romero narrowed his eyes as if he could not believe that someone was actually asking him such a thing. I loved him. Here I was not Aria, wife of Luca Vitiello. “But it’s just the two of us.
And we won’t be long,” I said politely.
The woman looked at Romero and me, then smiled. “You have 1 hour. You are a cute couple.
She turned to lead us toward our table, which is why she did not see Romero’s expression.
“Why didn’t you correct her?” he asked quietly.
“Why should I?”
“Because we are not a couple. You are Luca’s.”
“I am. And I’m not.”
Romero protested no more, but I could tell it made him uncomfortable to act like we were anything but a bodyguard and his boss’s wife. I ate a salad with the most delicious dressing and enjoyed watching the people around us while Romero ate a hamburger and observed our surroundings. I couldn’t wait to bring Gianna here. Sadness filled me at the thought. I had never been so lonely in my life. It was only two days into my new life and I really didn’t know how to survive the thousands of days that would follow. “So Luca will be home late again tonight?”
“I suppose,” Romero said evasively.
After eating, I forced Romero to walk around the surroundings of the restaurant for a while longer , but eventually became frustrated by his stiff posture and obvious discomfort, and agreed to return to the apartment.
*** When the cab stopped in front of the apartment building, Romero paid the driver and I got out of the car. As I approached the window, I noticed one of Luca’s cousins sitting in the lobby.
What was he doing here? We had said only a few sentences to each other at the wedding, and I had not gotten the impression that she was interested in friendship. Confused, I entered the foyer.
Cosima’s eyes fixed on me and she approached without hesitation and hugged me to my surprise, then put something in my hand. “Here. Don’t let Romero or anyone else see this.
Now smile.”
I did, stunned. I could feel a folded piece of paper and what felt like a key in my palm. I quickly tucked them into my bag when Romero appeared beside me. “What are you doing here, Cosima?”
There was a hint of suspicion in her voice.
She bared her teeth at him. “I wanted to see how Aria was doing and asked her if we could meet soon for lunch. But I have to go now. I have a hair appointment.” She gave me a warning look, then left, her high heels clinking on the marble floor.
Romero was watching me. “What did he say?”
“What he told you,” I said, lifting my chin. “I want to go up now.” He wanted me to act like his boss, so he couldn’t expect me to open up to him. He nodded and led me toward the elevator with a sharp nod toward the two receptionists.
The moment we entered the penthouse, I excused myself and went to the guest bathroom. I pulled out what Cosima had given me and opened the piece of paper.
Aria, the key is to one of the apartments owned by Vitiello. Come tonight at ten o’clock at night to see what your husband is really doing while you warm his bed. Be careful and quiet and don’t tell anyone.
Romero will try to stop you. Shake him off.
The address was at the bottom of the page. The note was unsigned and was written with a computer. Was it from Cosima? That would make sense. I read it over and over again. It could be a trick, or worse: a trap, but curiosity burned in me. Luca had not exactly been the most present husband.
The only problem was how to get to the apartment and how to get rid of Romero. He never left my side.