Page 141 of The Don’s Omega

Chapter Twenty

Elio

Marcello is leaving on yet another business trip. I stand with him in the front hall while Anthony carries his bag out to the car.

“I should only be gone a few days,” he says. “Three at the outside. It’s a sensitive situation, otherwise I’d send Carlo.”

I give what I hope is a reassuring smile. “I understand you need to be there in person.”

He sighs. “I’d much rather stay home with you.”

I smirk. “Who’d have thought those domesticated words would ever come out of Marcello Foschini’s mouth?”

“Don’t mock me.” He fake scowls.

“Even though I enjoy it so much?”

He grabs my chin. “Yes, even then.” He presses his mouth to mine, then he pulls back. “I need to go or I’ll miss my flight.”

“Yep. Get your ass in the car.”

He narrows his eyes. “Oh, so now you’re trying to get rid of me?”

“Nope. If it was up to me, we’d still be in bed.”

“Excellent answer.” He lowers his head and he kisses me again. The kiss is unhurried and his mouth tastes like the espresso he just finished. One hand slides to the small of my back, pulling me closer, and the baby bump presses between us. When he pulls away his eyes stay on mine. “Will you do me a favor while I’m gone?”

“Sure.”

“Stay close to the house, tesoro. Please,” he murmurs.

I frown. “I know. I know. You’ve said that ten times.”

“Then this is eleven.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Do it for me. I’ll worry less if you say yes.”

“Yes.”

“Good boy,” he says softly.

He gives my cheek a gentle pat and he goes. I watch the car until it clears the gate and the gate swings shut. The fountain in the courtyard is the only sound left as I watch the car disappear into the distance.

Once I can no longer see his car, I take my coffee to the window seat in the library. October light comes in thin and gray. The grounds are starting to turn, copper creeping into the maples along the drive. The gardener is raking near the vault where Adriano is buried. I can hear the scrape of the rake from here and it unsettles me. I don’t like thinking about death, but I know it’s all around me in Marcello’s world.

As I sip my coffee, I glance at my phone where it sits on the cushion beside me. Nothing from Salvatore for two days. With every day of silence my uneasiness grows. He promised me he’d talk to Naldo Ferrante and tell me how it went. But I haven’t heard a word since, and it’s beginning to really worry me.

I told Marcello I’d stick close to home, but I decide to go to the club. Exercise might help me work off my anxiety. It’s good for me and the baby, and secretly, I’m hoping maybe I’ll run into Salvatore while I’m there. So, after lunch, I have Dante drive me to the club.

After a few hours of hitting tennis balls with Giulia, I sit on the veranda with her, Pasquale, and Costanza. I half listen to Pasquale complain about his landscaper as a waiter clears glasses from the table beside ours.

“Has anyone seen Salvatore lately?” I ask, keeping my voice light.

“Not me,” Giulia says.

Pasquale shrugs one shoulder. “He missed Tuesday too. Probably his back again.”

“He’s sixty-two,” Costanza says, as if that explains everything. “When you get older everything hurts.”

I nod and say nothing, but the gnawing gets worse. Salvatore said he’d get back to me, but I haven’t heard a peep. I hope he’s okay. Other than something bad happening to him, I can’t think of why he wouldn’t have called me by now. He knew how worried I was.