Gianni kicked his feet up.“Well, are you?”
I moved in front of him, lowering my voice.“You know better than to question a Don.”
He didn’t flinch.Gianni had always been fearless, even when he was staring me down.
“What are you going to do?Kill me?”He shrugged.He knew I’d never.
There was only silence as he waited for my answer.Then he burst out laughing.I shook my head despite myself, and the tension loosened just enough that I let my guard drop an inch.
Gianni leaned back, hands behind his head.“So.Really.What are you doing here?And how can I help?”
“You can’t.”
“I figured you’d say that,” he sighed.“But I’m not leaving.I promised Marcello I’d keep an eye on you.And if something happens to you, he’ll cry nonstop, and I’m not dealing with the baby of the family.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose.“Gianni?—”
“Nope.I’m here.I’m staying.Also,” he added, brightening, “I want to go to the market.”
I stared at him.“Why?”
“Dry mango.”
“What?”
“Mikayla only likes the mango from the stalls here,” he told me, already standing.“She’s pregnant and will make me sleep outside if I go home without it.”
I blinked once.“You’re unbelievable.”
He grinned.“Tell her that.She’ll agree with you.”
I sighed and grabbed my keys.“Fine.Market.Then you leave me alone.”
“That’s what you think,” he muttered under his breath—loud enough for me to hear.
Tuscany’s markets were loud,cramped, and crowded with locals.People haggled over fruit.Vendors shouted prices.Tourists took photos they probably wouldn’t look at again.
Gianni headed straight for the fruit section like he’d been navigating these stalls his whole life.
“We get the mango, then pistachio crisps.”He was already weaving through the crowd like he was leading a mission.“Mikayla loves pistachio chips.”
I followed him, unimpressed.“Anything else you want to add to the list?Do you need a trolley, perhaps?”
He snorted.“Don’t tempt me.She also wants dried figs, but I’m pretending I forgot that part.”
“You’re a coward,” I told him.
“I’m married,” he corrected.“There’s a difference.”
I shook my head.“I don’t know how your wife puts up with you.”
Gianni grinned at me over his shoulder.“Don’t worry, Don.I’ll buy you a gelato.Maybe it’ll help with your personality.”
“Get me gelato and I’ll consider not shoving you under a bus.”
He laughed, unbothered.“See?This is why I came.You need me.Otherwise you’d be brooding alone in your fancy penthouse like some tragic villain.”
I stopped walking.“I am a tragic villain.”