Chapter 18
Dante
As I guide Camille through the throng of people on the sidewalk as they mill about in the mid-morning sun, I tell myself that a booth one spot back still counts as space.
Lucia goes to the diner every morning, and Camille needs to eat. We’re having breakfast. That’s it.
Well, that’s the story I tell myself as we approach one of my security personnel who followed Lucia to the diner this morning after she delivered her overnight guests safely to a shelter on Del Ora Street.
It’s a lie.
The truth is, I’ll take any excuse that allows me to interact with Lucia without barging my way into her space. I’m drawn to her to an extent that makes restraint more a discipline than a virtue. If I don’t keep myself in check, I’ll cross a line without realizing it.
As we slow near the entrance of the diner, Camille squeezes my hand, already buzzing with anticipation at seeing Lucia again.
Just as fast, my instincts stiffen.
There’s a shadow in a doorway across from the diner. A dark-haired man is half-turned toward the street, waiting for someone—or pretending to be. His coat is expensive, his shoes are polished, butunlike the guard who greeted me with a respectable dip of his chin, respect never reaches his eyes when our gazes align.
My pulse doesn’t spike when recognition dawns. It goes cold.
When I stop walking, Camille peers up at me, confusion crinkling her nose.
I soften the groove scouring my forehead before crouching to her height. “Go inside,stellina. I’ll join you in a minute.” She hesitates, uneasy about my request. I usually do everything I can to bring her close to me, not push her away. Fortunately, I only need six short words to change her stance. If only it were as easy with the woman I use to bribe my daughter to conform. “Lucia is inside, waiting for you.”
Her eyes brighten at the name, and that’s all it takes for me to signal to security to remain close but unobtrusive. I don’t want him scaring either Camille or Lucia.
“I’ll be in as soon as I can.”
Camille nods, trusting me without hesitation. That trust burrows deeply in my chest as I guide her through the café’s entry door. The bell rings, and I catch a glimpse of Lucia’s concern when Camille races to her side without anyone in tow. Her eyes slide toward the entrance, so I step back, hiding in the shadows of the alcove.
Her expression is scared, but not for herself. She’s only worried about Camille and me.
That’s all I need to know to confirm I made the right decision.
Straightening up, I cross the street and beeline for the perv in the shadows. His throat bobs when he notices my approach, but he remains still.Dumb prick.
“Dante Caruso,” Edoardo croons like we’ve bumped into each other at a charity gala instead of outside a diner that suddenly feels too good for him. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“You don’t belong here.” My voice is a little ominous.
My brothers have worked tirelessly over the past twenty-four hours trying to unearth a connection between Lucia and Edoardo. Every lead they’ve chased has led to a dead end. If Lucia has a child, it isn’t in anyrecords. There isn’t a single snippet of her existence in any form, both through legal channels and the one my family prefers to use.
Edoardo’s smile sharpens. “That sounds an awful lot like concern.”
“It’s a warning.” I move close enough that he has to crank his neck to maintain eye contact. He’s on the cusp of six feet, but that’s midget territory compared to my height. “Whatever business you think you have in this town, end it. Now.”
As he rubs his hands together, his gaze flicks briefly toward the diner window. Toward Lucia.
I step to the left, blocking his view.
“That ends now,” I continue low enough that only he can hear. “You don’t go near her. You don’t breathe in her direction. You don’t exist in her world.”
Edoardo chuckles, but there’s calculation behind his arrogance now. “I’ve heard you’re extremely protective. Careful, Dante. That kind of protectiveness can be misunderstood.”
My snarl is vicious. “Misunderstand this. If I see you here again, we won’t have a conversation with words. I’ll use my fists, then my gun.”
Behind me, through glass, Lucia laughs at something funny Camille does.