Page 58 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

Which isn’t often, he held backfrom adding.

Calisto had learned over the years that in this life,he didn’t need sleep. Or rather, he didn’t need a lot of it. He could sleepwhen he was dead—when he wasn’t the consigliere of a crime boss, and he wasn’tconstantly looking over his shoulder for one reason or another.

“What are you doing here?” he asked.

Emma shrugged, quiet and still like a statue. “I wasin the neighborhood. My driver might have pointed out that this restaurant wasyours. I hadn’t tried it.”

“I recommend the salmon. It’s fantastic.”

“I’ll consider it.”

Calisto dragged his stare down Emma’s form. She wore ablack, leather bomber jacket over top of the red dress. He was silentlypleased—and less worried about her mental health—at seeing her dressed up, hermakeup done, and her hair tossed up in a messy chignon. Each time he hadvisited the Donati home over the last month and a half, he always found Emmalooking like she had little to no desire for anything. Not getting dressed,handling herself, or whatever else she might need to do.

Depression was a bitch.

He hoped she was coming out of it.

“What are you really doing here?” Calisto asked.

Emma glanced down, but he still saw the crimson camberof her lips. “I’m surprised you care to look beyond the fact I’m actually outof the house, Cal.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Affonso didn’t question me at all today. I was up anddressed—even if it wasn’t to his satisfaction with my dress choice. I lookedpretty, just how he likes. He didn’t say a thing when I told him I would begone for most of the day. He didn’t even ask what I was doing or where I wasgoing.”

“Carter reports back to him anyway,” Calisto said,referring to Emma’s enforcer and driver.

“Not my point.”

“I understand your point.” Calisto stood from thechair, swiped the money off the side of the desk, and shoved it into his suitpocket. “That still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here in my restaurantoffice, Emmy.”

“Well, that for one.”

Calisto rounded the desk, and leaned against the frontof it. Here, he was only two feet away from Emma. He convinced himself it wasmore than enough space to be acceptable.

“Which is what?” he asked.

“Emmy.”

“What about it?”

She picked at her nails. “I’m alone most of the time.The last month and a half feels like a big, black hole that I was sucked into.And then I woke up one morning and I was so pissed off at him for being able toact like what happened didn’t matter.”

Why was she telling him this? Didn’t she know it onlymade it harder for Calisto to ignore the craziness she created inside him?

“What does that have anything to do with me callingyou Emmy?” he asked.

Emma looked up at him; her gaze burned with fire andice all at the same time. “I woke up today and for the first time in a coupleof weeks, I wasn’t angry with him. I wasn’t over it, but I wasn’t angry.”

“Being angry with Affonso is pointless, Emmy. He feedson that shit—sucks it in like cigarette smoke. I would have told you not towaste your efforts, but at least you were doing something other than staring atthe walls and lying in bed.”

“After I got married …”

Calisto’s throat tightened, but he pushed it back andforced himself to speak. “Keep going.”

“I thought you kept disappearing because you didn’twant to be near me. Like maybe I was a disgrace to you because of what happenedin Vegas. And then I thought that you were staying away because you wereselfish.”

“I am,” he interjected quietly.