Page 64 of Stolen Touches

“You can’t always go with me, Salvatore. What if I need to visit the hairdresser? Or get a manicure? I have girlfriends. I like going for coffee with them from time to time.”

His body goes rigid. “How often?”

“Beauty salon stuff, once a month. Girl time, twice a month.”

“All right. I’ll deal with that somehow.” He squeezes his hands around my waist. “But tonight... every hour, Milene.”

“I’ll call,” I whisper. “Where are you going tonight?”

“To one of our safe houses. I have a situation to resolve.”

“Do I want to know the specifics?”

“You don’t.” He places a quick kiss on my lips. “Let’s go work on those emails.”

* * *

The sound of the doorbell reaches me as I’m trying to coax Kurt out of the kitchen cupboard. He’s been hiding out in a large, stainless-steel pot for twenty minutes, and every time I’ve tried to get him out, he’s only hissed and bared his fangs. I also have two long claw marks on my forearm from when I tried to take him out.

“Ada, can you get that?” I yell over my shoulder, then turn back to the devil’s eyes before me. I will not admit defeat before this cat! Grabbing the lid from the shelf below, I put it over the pot and, with the cat still inside, take the vessel by its handles. I’ll carry Kurt to the bedroom and deposit him on the bed to avoid further injury.

Pot in hands, I turn around and come face-to-face with Salvatore’s mother.

“Ilaria.” I gulp, then smile. “How nice to see you. Would you like some coffee?”

“Sure,” she says and takes off her coat.

“Perfect, I’ll just... take this away.” I noddown at the pot in my hands. Kurt picks that exact moment to let out a pained meow. I groan, lower the pot to the floor and carefully remove the lid. Kurt leaps out of the pot, hisses at me again for good measure, and dashes toward the hallway. When I stand up, I find Ilaria staring at me with wide eyes. I guess she’s not accustomed to seeing people carrying cats around in stockpots.

“Desperate measures,” I murmur, setting the pot down in the sink and head toward the coffee machine. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Both.” She takes a seat at the breakfast bar.

“Salvatore’s not here,” I mention over my shoulder. “He had some business to attend to.”

“I know. I came to check on Alessandro, but I wanted to talk to you first.”

“Oh?” I carry the coffee over and take a seat opposite her. “About anything in particular?”

“How’s this thing between you two going?”

“By ‘thing,’ you mean the marriage?”

“Yes. Being forced to marry someone you don’t know is not every woman’s dream,” she says and looks down at her cup. “Believe me, I have experience.”

“You didn’t know Salvatore’s father until you married him?”

“No. So, you see, I can relate to you and your situation.”

“Hmm.” I take a sip of my coffee. “Salvatore and I knew each other before he decided to trap me in this marriage.”

Ilaria’s hand holding her cup of coffee stops midway to her mouth. “What?”

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?”

“No,” she whispers.

“We met a handful of times. I’m pretty sure he was stalking me. We even went on a date. A kind of date, anyway.”