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Alina’s smile spread. “I like how honest you are.”
“That gets Antonio’s rocks off too.” Vespa waved her hand toward the pictures. “But these? I’m not at all like this.” In one, she had a soft smile, similar to Alina’s. It was sort of creepy to look at.
“You see my problem.” Alina gestured toward her easel. “Ready to help me fix it?”
Time passed excruciatingly slowly. Vespa tried to hold still at first, but she wasn’t good with inactivity and relaxed when Alina didn’t seem to mind the pacing that took over.
Vespa let her mind wander. There had been a lot of shit to clean up after both Rossi and Barone were taken out, but it was her relationship with Antonio that had weighed on her. Mostly because it was so easy, which was maddening.
Not one Coronella had ragged her about being with him. They treated her as they always had.
Whenever Antonio stayed over, Montrell invited him to the conference room meetings. Antonio and Beatrice often got carried away conniving together, and Montrell shared his joy and humor about it with Vespa. Montrell was fully on board with including Antonio in the Coronella family, if that was what they decided.
Vespa was still arguing with Antonio over it, but he was a stubborn ass sometimes. He seemed to think loving someone meant giving up more of himself, and she didn’t like it.
She also still hadn’t been able to say the words aloud. He said he knew and that she didn’t have to.
He didn’t seem to be getting bored with her at all. Sometimes she’d study him, wondering when he would.
Not that their bedroom antics had any issues. Antonio had purchased her some strap-on thing that felt awesome when she—
“Done!” Alina called out.
“What?” Vespa halted midstride, blinking around the cozy living room of the townhouse. “Already?”
“I had it mostly done. It was the expression I kept getting wrong. Do you want to see it?”
“I—” Ants skittered along Vespa’s arms, and she avoided looking at the other paintings of her. “No. I’m good.”
Alina wiped her hands on a towel. She wasn’t smiling.
“But are you good?” Vespa asked. “You got what you needed?”
Alina nodded. “It’s perfect. Thank you for coming.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “Are you certain you don’t want a tart? I’m feeling a little—”
A gloved hand cupped hers and placed one of the strawberry tarts on her palm. Alina’s smile appeared, all for the shadow of a man beside her. Luka’s lips tilted, as if he were smiling back. Neither pulled their hands away.
Vespa wondered if she looked at Antonio that way. “None for me,” she said. “Those were for Luka.” She nodded toward him. “And if you think of anything else you want, just let me know.” She frowned. “Though, I might not be around the Di Salvos’ estate as often in the future.”
Alina blinked as her smile fell. “What? Why? Are you and Antonio fighting?”
“No. I mean, yeah, but it’s not a fight fight. He thinks he needs to be a Coronella or something, and I don’t agree.” Vespa shrugged. “He seems to be winning the argument.” That it felt true when she said it made her scowl.
Alina blinked, and Luka was actually looking at Vespa for once.
“Why?” he asked in a soft voice.
Vespa’s anger simmered. “I’m wondering the same damn thing. Why am I giving in like this? It’s not like me to go soft.” But every time she tried to argue, he said something about how necessary she was. Montrell had always said she was great, and he’d been saying it a lot more lately too. Something about being affirmed like that from both sides made her become all gooey and sappy inside.
Vespa was starting to prefer talking to Beatrice, who had remained consistently pushy and indifferent.
Luka’s gaze skittered away. “No,” he said simply. His gloved hand squeezed Alina’s before it fell away and he melted back toward the kitchen.
“I agree with Luka,” Alina said. “If this isn’t what you want, then fight for what that looks like.”
“That’s part of the problem. I get Antonio’s concerns.” Vespa sighed. “Alliances between Mafia families are fleeting. Sure, we’re working well together now, but there’s a lot to shore up. It’s not likely to remain that way. How can we be together, Antonio and I, if we end up on different sides?”
“It would make it harder, but not impossible.” Alina glanced toward the kitchen. “Luka was a Bratva.”
