Chapter 9 - THE FIRST DINNER
Luca waited five months after I left his employment.
I knew because Matteo told me.
Apparently the entire Moretti security organization had opinions about appropriate romantic waiting periods.
Then Luca called.
“Dinner Friday.”
I stared at the phone.
“That sounds like a work assignment.”
He sighed.
“I have been warned about this.”
“Try again.”
“Emma Sullivan, would you have dinner with me Friday?”
“Why?”
Long pause.
“You're enjoying this.”
“Yes.”
“Because I like you.”
Better.
“Anything else?”
“Because I have spent five months discovering that not seeing you every day is extremely inconvenient.”
I laughed.
“Seven-thirty?”
“Yes.”
Restaurant in Lincoln Park.
He did not own it.
I checked.
Bruno stayed home.
Diesel too.
Two guards waited outside.
Nobody is perfect.
We talked about my father.
My brother.
His father.
Vanessa.
Not excessively.
Past relationships should not become dinner guests.
Luca told me he had been afraid to open his father’s drawer.
“Why?”
“Because if the ledger was real, I had to admit my father knew the Bellinis were dangerous and never told me.”
“He left the letter.”
“After he died.”
“Still late.”
“Yes.”
Then:
“I keep wondering what else he thought silence protected.”
I understood.
“Families do that.”
“Yes.”
“So do poor people.”
He looked at me.
“What do you mean?”
“My mother hid bills from me when I was seventeen.”
“Why?”
“She thought worry was something parents could absorb for children.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
I smiled.
“It usually just makes the surprise worse.”
Luca nodded.
Different worlds.
Same mistake.
At the end, he walked me toward my car.
“Can I kiss you?”
I smiled.
“You ask now.”
“I've made progress.”
“Yes.”
The kiss was gentle.
No gunfire.
No dogs interrupting.
Although Bruno would have improved it.
May you like
I did not mention that.
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