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"May I ask what you're planning, madam?"

"Dinner."

"For Mr. Di Zaro?"

"For my husband," I say sweetly. "I'm being a good wife, Charles."

There’s another pause, and I swear I can hear him smiling down the line.

"Winning the war, Mrs. Di Zaro?"

"Winning the war, Charles."

"The groceries will be up within the hour."

I hang up.

Right, next I need a costume.

Because I am not doing this in yoga pants.

Something that says I’m yours.

And nothing says that quite like wearing your man’s shirt.

I walk down the hallway, stop outside Dante's bedroom, and push the door open.

He never said this room was off-limits.

His room is dark and immaculate, and oh God, it smells so sexy.

The closet is a wall of black suits and white shirts hanging in rows.

I take one shirt off its hanger and resist the urge to smell it.

Okay. I smell it once.

For the purpose of the mission.

Tonight, my husband will come home to a hot meal, a warm smile, and a wife delighted to see him.

He'll never know what hit him.

I practice my smile in his bathroom mirror.

Sweet.

Warm.

And absolutely weaponized.

21

DANTE

I’m in my office when my phone buzzes. Deno.

"Boss, Sal's here."