Page 45 of Luca

My phone buzzes. It’s Paolo, checking in about today's schedule. "Change of plans," I tell him. "We're taking Sofia with us to Milan."

"Are you sure? Boss, that's not really the place for a lady."

"I know what it is. She's coming anyway."

There's a pause. "You want me to arrange separate transportation for Mrs. Romano?"

"No. She flies with us. And Paolo?"

"Yes, boss?"

"I want you to watch her. Carefully."

"For what?"

That's the question, isn't it? What am I looking for? Evidence that my wife is someone other than who she claims to be?

"Just pay attention," I say. "And tell me later what you see."

After I hang up, I pull up Sofia's file on my computer. Something I should have done before now. The folder contains a background check from before our engagement, standard procedure for any alliance marriage. Clean criminal record, predictable history. No debts or scandals. Educated at private schools, studied art history at university.

Nothing interesting or even remotely suspicious.

But the woman who tackled a pickpocket at the Trevi Fountain moved like someone who'd been in fights before. The woman who downed two shots of whiskey at our wedding reception drank like someone who'd developed a tolerance for alcohol in bars I can't imagine Sofia ever entering.

And this morning, when she talked about the villa being too quiet, there was something in her voice that sounded like experience.

I can’t let these questions go on any longer. I quickly place a call before I change my mind.

"Alberti,” he answers on the first ring.

Detective Lieutenant Alberti has been on our payroll for five years. Reliable, discrete, and smart enough to know which questions not to ask.

"It's Romano. I need you to run a check for me."

"What kind?"

"Travel, financial activity, anything unusual in the past few months. Keep it quiet."

"Of course. What's the name?"

This feels almost like crossing a line, but the alternative is living with questions that are already driving me insane.

"Sofia Arcari. Now Romano."

There's a pause. "Your new wife?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No problem. Only making sure I understand the scope. You want me to look for anything specific?"

"Anything that doesn't match what should be a very quiet, predictable life. Focus on the past six months to a year."

"I'll have something for you soon."

I lean back in my chair and stare out the window at the gardens where my wife is now walking with Rosa. Even from this distance, I can see something different about the way she moves.

She stops to smell one of the rose bushes, and Rosa says something that makes her laugh. The sound carries through the open window, and it's not the soft, polite laugh I remember from our dinner dates. This is something richer, more genuine.