Chapter 19 Luca
I still hear the echoes of last night. Raised voices muffled by the thick walls of the restaurant, sharp enough to cut through the clatter of silverware.
Not the words—those I couldn’t make out—but the tone of the conversation between Sofia and her father. Desperate, angry, threaded with something neither of them wanted anyone else to hear.
When I stepped onto that terrace, Sofia and her father froze like they’d been caught in the middle of a crime. Whatever battle they’d waged on that terrace wasn’t over.
My phone buzzes. Detective Alberti, right on schedule.
"Romano."
"It's Alberti. I have that report you wanted on Mrs. Romano."
"And?"
"Clean as a whistle. No unusual financial activity, no suspicious travel, no questionable associates. The past six months show exactly what you'd expect from a wealthy art dealer's daughter. Shopping at familiar boutiques, family dinners, wedding preparations."
I lean back in my chair. "Nothing at all?"
"Nothing that would raise red flags. She made a few large purchases, her wedding dress, jewelry to go with it, that kind of thing. Had lunch with friends, attended gallery events with her father. She spends most of her time alone at home. A very predictable pattern."
Too predictable.
The woman who hustled professional gamblers in Milan and picked the lock to my study doesn't live a predictable life.
"How far back did you go?"
"A full year. You want me to dig deeper?"
Going back further might reveal whatever Sofia's hiding. But it might also reveal things about the Arcari family that I'm not prepared to know. Information that could complicate the alliance in ways I can't control.
"Not yet," I say finally. "I'll let you know."
"Your call. I’m always here if you need me."
I hang up and pour myself a drink. The more I learn about Sofia, the more confused I am.
Paolo calls me. "Boss, we've got a situation."
"What kind?"
"The kind where Mr. Arcari has been making calls to some very interesting people since last night."
I set down my glass. "Who is he calling?"
"Travel agents. High-end ones that specialize in... discrete arrangements. Also reached out to a contact in the Swiss banking sector. "
"Any idea what he’s doing?"
"No idea. To me it sounds like either he’s trying to track someone or make arrangements to leave town in a hurry."
"Keep monitoring his communications. But don't interfere. Not yet."
"Understood."
My study door opens without a knock. Sofia appears in the doorway wearing a sundress, but something's different about her posture. More guarded.
"Good morning," she says, crossing to kiss my cheek. Her voice is softer than usual, more like the Sofia from our engagement dinners.
"Good morning. You're up early."
"Couldn't sleep either." She settles into the chair across from my desk, but doesn't meet my eyes the way she has been lately. "I wanted to apologize for last night."
"Apologize for what?"
"The tension with my father. I know you noticed." She fidgets with her wedding ring, a nervous gesture I haven't seen from her in weeks. "Family dynamics can be... complicated."
"What were you discussing on the terrace?"
"He worries about me adapting to married life, to being part of your family. Sometimes he gets a bit dramatic about it."
She's lying, but more carefully than before. Gone is the confident woman who demanded freedom and hustled poker players. This version is closer to the Sofia I remember from our engagement.
"He seemed more than worried. He seemed upset."
"He has strong opinions about proper behavior for wives. He was giving me guidance about my role as a Romano." She finally looks up at me, and I see something that might be fear. "I hope his concern didn't cause any problems."
"No problems," I say, though we both know that's not entirely true.
She nods and stands up quickly, as if she doesn't want to prolong the conversation. "I should let you work. I know you're busy."
"Sofia." She pauses at the door. "If there's anything else you need to tell me about last night, now would be the time."
For a moment, she looks like she might say something. Then she shakes her head.
"There's nothing else. Just my father being overly concerned and protective. He’s always been this way."
She's gone before I can ask anything more. I sit there for a long time after she leaves. Something is definitely wrong.
I pick up my phone and dial Alberti again.
"It's Romano. I want you to expand that background check."
"How far back?"
"All the way. Birth records, school enrollment, medical history, travel documents. Everything."
"That's going to take time. And it's going to cost. Especially for confidential things like medical records."
"I don't care about the cost. And I need it fast."
"I'll see what I can do."
I try to imagine what I'll do with whatever truth Alberti uncovers. Because one thing I'm certain of. The woman I married is not the woman I thought I was getting.
The only question now is whether that's something to celebrate or something to fear.