One of the household staff enters with a tea tray. She sets it on the low table between our chairs, arranging cups and asteaming pot with practiced efficiency. The scent of ginger fills the air.
"Thank you," I say.
She nods and withdraws.
I pour tea for all three of us. Nora wraps her hands around her cup like she's drawing warmth from it, even though the room isn't cold.
"That's so romantic," Gianna breathes. "He saved your life. Like a real-life prince."
Nora smiles.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bruno
Iwheel myself through the back entrance. The kitchen staff glance up as I pass, then quickly look away.
Liam follows three steps behind me. His footsteps are quiet on the tile floor.
"He's in the private dining room," Liam says. "Waiting for Romano."
"I know."
I push through the swinging doors into the main dining area. Crystal chandeliers hang dark overhead. White tablecloths gleam in the dim light filtering through curtained windows. Every surface is polished to perfection.
Lorenzo built this place from nothing. Turned a failing Italian restaurant into one of the most exclusive dining experiences in Chicago. He has a gift for creating beauty. For making people feel special.
I never had that gift.
The private dining room is at the back. Heavy oak doors. Soundproofed walls. The kind of space where deals get made and secrets get buried.
I pause outside the doors.
My hands are steady on the wheels of my chair. My breathing is even. My face shows nothing.
Inside, I'm drowning.
Lorenzo and I haven't spoken properly in months. Not since the truth came out. Not since everything we'd both been hiding exploded in our faces and left our family in pieces.
I push open the doors.
Lorenzo stands by the window, his back to me. He's wearing one of his perfectly tailored suits. Navy blue. Expensive. His shoulders are tense beneath the fabric.
He doesn't turn around.
"Bruno."
His voice is flat. Neutral. The voice he uses with business associates and strangers.
Not the voice he used to use with me.
"Lorenzo."
I wheel myself into the room. The doors swing shut behind me with a soft click. Liam stays outside. This conversation doesn't need witnesses.
"Eraldo Romano will be here in a few minutes," Lorenzo says. Still facing the window. Still not looking at me.
"We need to talk."