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Not as much as it probably should. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this by now, but I’m not exactly shy.”
His eyebrows climbed dramatically above the top of his glasses. “No. I don’t believe you.”
I nudged him with my shoulder. “Shut up.”
The phone in his hand began buzzing. “Perdonami,” he murmured. “I must take this. Pronto.” He listened to whoever was on the other end. I sipped my cappuccino and unlocked my own phone, pretending to read online gossip as I wondered about the message upstairs on the mirror. Would he see it today before we left, or at some point when we returned?
I wanted to plan a long visit here, maybe a three-day weekend?—
Vito went stiff beside me, his furious voice cracking like a whip. “Che cazzo?”
I winced. I felt sorry for whoever had pissed him off.
A long, heated exchange transpired. I recognized some of the curse words, but that was about it. Vito slapped the marble bar with his palm. I started, surprised by the loud noise, and he immediately reached to rub my back soothingly. Deciding to give him privacy, I got up and wandered away to explore the first floor a bit. There was a bar near the long sofas that I hadn’t noticed last night, and I was curious what Vito stocked here.
Mostly Italian wine, I discovered. That made sense. Then a familiar bottle caught my attention. Was this . . . ? Yep, it was one and the same. There was a bottle of the New Orleans bourbon-whiskey I bought for Vito in the casino bar.
I bit my lip, ridiculously pleased by this small thing. Did he think of me when he sipped it?
“Mi dispiace, angelo,” Vito called before he stalked over to the back hallway and shouted, “Andiamo, raggazi!”
We were leaving, I guess.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “What happened?”
He grabbed our coats off the hooks by the door. “We need to return immediately.”
I went over and he helped me into my coat. “Why? Is something wrong?”
Cesare and Adelmo came hurrying from the hall, bags in their hands. Vito pointed to my overnight bag and gave them instructions. “I can carry my own bag,” I protested when Adelmo came over to get it.
“Let the men get it.” Vito motioned for me to hurry through the front door, so I didn’t argue. Soon we were all packed into the elevator and no one spoke. I took a peek at Vito and marveled at the change in him. A switch had flipped. This wasthe mafia boss, the criminal who got pissed just before heads started to roll.
I didn’t want our time in Toronto to be ruined. This had been too perfect to let some petty mafia crap bring down the vibes. Reaching over, I took his hand in mine and held it. He didn’t react right away, seemingly lost in his thoughts, but then his grip tightened, his hold firm. I squeezed and he squeezed back.
My anxiety eased a bit after that. Everything was fine. He would tell me what was going on as soon as we were alone.
During the drive to the airport, he made a few calls. I didn’t care. He still held my hand the whole time, like he needed that small connection to me, so I let him work and looked through my phone absently. I was surprised to see a text from Val pop up.
HEY! WHERE ARE YOU
I wrinkled my nose. I didn’t want to tell her about Vito, about the trip. It seemed a conversation best had in person, to be honest. Falling in love with a mafia boss who won your winery in a poker game wasn’t really news you dropped via text to your best friend.
I turned my phone off.
We were about to fly anyway. I’d call Val when Vito and I landed in Paesano.
For the rest of the drive, I stared out the window and listened to the deep rumblings of Vito’s voice. I would need to learn some Italian. Starting with whatever he liked to whisper in my ear when he was inside of me.
The jet was ready and waiting when we boarded. The same attendant greeted us and it wasn’t long before we were in the air. During takeoff, Vito huddled in the rear of the jet, talking with his men, while I gripped the armrests of my seat and tried to remain upbeat about our survival rate.
Vito returned when the plane leveled off. “Perdonami,” he said again, kissing the back of my hand after he peeled it off the armrest. “I shouldn’t have left you alone.”
“I’m fine,” I said, despite the damp circles under my armpits. “Is everything okay?”
He paused, his jaw stiff. “The winery, something has happened there.”
Wait, what? The winery?