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He’d been too scared to.
“I know what I would do if someone threatened Nera. What I did do.” Giovanni’s lips pressed together as he leaned forward. “But Luka? You’ll only protect her completely if you find a way to return.”
The impossibility of it made Luka stare out the window, which was too bright and burned his eyes.
Giovanni sighed. “If you came to ask me to take care of her again when you die, don’t bother forcing the words out. I don’t want to hear them.”
Luka hadn’t been able to find them anyway. Giovanni understood him without words; he had once been the only person close to Luka.
But Giovanni was no longer the person Luka wanted to be around most.
Chapter 27
Alina fought not to give in to her need to chase after Luka. He’d promised to tell her when he was leaving. He was just going to talk to the Di Salvos’ boss, someone who was important to him, if Antonio was to be believed.
She wondered if Luka loved Giovanni.
She wasn’t blind. Her own words of love hadn’t been reciprocated, had even put fear back in Luka’s eyes.
“Would you like to help with the tarts?” Nera asked, pulling Alina’s gaze to the kitchen island. The woman’s smile seemed sweet. “Strawberry tarts are Luka’s favorite.”
Alina had cooked for Luka at the diner. Meg’s dead eyes returned to her mind. “No.” The word sounded abrupt. Harsh. “Thank you, though,” she added, trying not to let the memories take over.
“Sure,” Nera murmured, her smile dimming.
Alina stared down at the croissant in her hand. She’d gripped it so hard that it had mostly crumbled to the floor. “I’m going to return to my room.”
“Oh, let me get you another pastry before you go.” Nera’s offer froze Alina before she could escape; saying no again really would be rude.
Antonio’s smile held an edge as he patted Nera’s shoulder, then headed toward Alina—an edge that made Alina want to hide. The Di Salvo man was probably attractive, with his dark hair, blue eyes, and muscled frame, but he only reminded Alina of the man who had hurt her. He had a similar body type, similar dark hair, but darker, olive skin that didn’t match the pale Russian bodies she’d seen.
Alina shifted to the other side of the island, hoping to avoid his approach. Antonio followed her, leaning close to her ear. Alina suppressed a shudder as she froze.
“Be nice,” he murmured, too low for anyone else to hear, though Nera frowned at them.
Alina couldn’t nod at the warning. She couldn’t do anything. At least he left the kitchen soon after.
Nera huffed out a breath, bringing Alina’s gaze to her as she tried to steady her breathing. “Sorry about him. Antonio can be a little intense.” She had plated quite a few croissants, and Alina wondered how she was going to pretend to eat them all. Nera pushed the plate along the island. “Here, these are for you. I added cheese and chocolate ones with the plain, so you can try a few flavors.”
Seeing her possible escape from the room, Alina moved forward to take it.
Nera’s fingers kept the plate in place. Her eyes were on Alina’s face. “I heard about the recent violence. I understand why you might want to hole up in your room, but I’m going to come by later anyway and take you someplace that might help with the fear.”
Alina let her gaze drop to the croissants. “Will it really help?”
Nera didn’t answer. Her hand left the plate to take up her knife instead. “I’ll come get you when I finish here.”
Alina slunk out of the kitchen. The room she’d been assigned to didn’t feel like hers. Not like the safe house had begun to feel. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be comfortable at the Di Salvo estate.
But Luka was there too.
The reminder let her stop pacing. She went over to the supplies they’d brought with them. Art had always been a calming escape. She should finish one of the pieces she’d started. The portrait of Giovanni, maybe, since she had started it for Luka. Or she could finish the one of Meg. It might purge her of that last fierce expression she couldn’t otherwise shake.
Alina pulled out a blank canvas and a pencil, sketching a rough outline of Luka instead.
More time had passed than she expected before the knock on the door came. She’d managed to lose herself. To not think.
When she opened the door, it wasn’t just Nera waiting in the hallway. Enzo was there as well. When Antonio had said the Di Salvos didn’t kill women, she’d remembered the sudden press of a gun against her head. Enzo had done that. He smiled at her, looking as friendly as he had when she’d first met him.
