38. Lucia
38
LUCIA
I get back to my office, reeling, but before I have time to call Antonio, my phone rings. It’s Valentina.
“I need a favor,” she says. “Is there any way you can duck out early from work today, pick Angelica up from school, and keep her at your place for a couple of hours?”
“Sure thing,” I respond. Valentina sounds incredibly stressed. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“It’s a long story. Thanks, Lucia. I’ll let Angelica’s school know you’ll be picking her up. Heads up, Dante will probably be there, too.”
There’s an edge to her voice when she says his name. “Are you sure everything is fine?”
She sighs. “Dante is not the problem if that’s what you’re asking. As for the rest, I’ll fill you in tonight.”
She hangs up before I can say another word. After the day I’ve had, I’m happy to leave work early, so when it’s time, I quickly grab my bag and head out without stopping to chat with anyone. When I get to Angelica’s school, Dante is already there.
“Signorina Petrucci,” he says. “Good afternoon. I’ll be walking back with you and Angelica.”
“Okay.” I shoot him a sidelong look. I’m wildly curious about Dante. Whatever Valentina might say, he’s important to her. I wasn’t there for the last time she was in a relationship, so this time around, I’m going to do my due diligence and make sure the guy she’s interested in isn’t a jerk. “Please call me Lucia.”
“Lucia.” He spots Angelica, and a smile touches his lips. “There you are, monkey.”
Angelica looks thrilled to see him. “Uncle Dante,” she squeals, her face breaking out into a wide smile. “You came to pick me up!” Her eyes fall on me. “And Aunt Lucia.” Her expression turns worried. “Where’s Mama?”
Dante responds before I can jump in. “She got held up at work,” he says, his tone warmly reassuring. “Lucia and I volunteered to pick you up.”
“Yep,” I confirm. “Your mom has to work late, so I thought that the three of us could have an impromptu hot chocolate party at my place.” I’m not above plying her with sugar. “Unless you don’t want some?”
Her eyes shine. “I love hot chocolate!”
“Let’s go then.”
We start walking to my house. Dante looks relaxed, but his eyes constantly scan the crowds. And it’s not just him providing security; I think I recognize Ignazio and Stefano at a discreet distance behind us.
Something’s going on. Something dangerous.
My heart jumps in my chest when I realize I haven’t heard from Antonio all day. Is he okay? Has something happened? I take a deep breath and force myself to relax. Valentina would have told me if something had happened to Antonio. Right now, I need to focus on the child in my care.
“What did you do at school today?”
“We learned about zebras,” Angelica responds happily. “And I had a surprise math test.” She sounds as excited by the test as when I offered her hot chocolate. She’s her mother’s daughter, all right. “Did you know that zebras can run as fast as sixty-five kilometers per hour?”
Dante and I listen to animal facts all the way back. Well, I listen. Dante glowers at every tourist who gets too close to us. I desperately want to ask him what’s going on, but I’m very conscious of the fact that Angelica has sharp ears, so I hold off.
“You have new chairs!” Angelica exclaims as soon as I open the front door of my apartment. “And a new carpet and so many flowers!” She makes a beeline for the nearest bouquet, burying her face in their petals and breathing deeply. “Look how many flowers, Uncle Dante!”
“Yes,” Dante agrees with studied blandness. “It’s almost as if someone bought every spring flower in Venice.”
I flush. Is that what Antonio did? We joked about florists in the city running out of blooms, but I didn’t think it actually happened.
“Now,” Dante continues. “What should we do? Your Aunt Lucia is going to make you hot chocolate, of course, but while she’s doing that, you can either tackle your homework or. . .” He pulls a Lego kit from his bag. “We could build a pirate ship?”
She squeals in excitement, and Dante chuckles. “Pirate ship it is.”
With a grin, I leave them to their construction and head into my kitchen to make Angelica her drink. Five minutes later, Dante sticks his head in. “I’ve been sent to tell you that Angelica would like whipped cream on her hot chocolate,” he says, his lips twitching. “If you have any.”
Whipped cream is essential. “I do. What’s going on? Can you talk about it?”
“The Russian threat has escalated,” he says. “Valentina and Angelica are moving in with me until we take care of this issue.”
“For how long?”
“Two weeks, maybe. A month at most.”
Dante likes Valentina; I’m sure of it. He should look pleased about the move, but he doesn’t. He looks almost tortured, and I don’t understand why.
“The threat has escalated? Antonio didn’t say anything to me.” We didn’t talk over the weekend, but we exchanged a couple of texts. I tripped over a vase getting out of bed and texted him that it was his fault. He replied by offering to send me more flowers, a quick exchange that left me with a smile on my face.
“That’s not surprising,” Dante’s tone is matter-of-fact. “He wouldn’t have wanted to worry you. The Padrino is going to protect you like he always has. You’re safe; you have nothing to fear.”
My eyes narrow. “What do you mean, he’s always protected me?”
He winces. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
I have to know. “Please?” I ask imploringly.
He sighs. “Ten years ago, when you first met Antonio, there was a man who hurt you, yes?”
I nod.
“That was Marco. Because of what he did, Antonio ordered Marco out of the city and told him that if he ever stepped foot in Venice again, he would personally kill him. Unfortunately, Antonio wasn’t yet the Padrino; Domenico Cartozzi was. And Marco was his nephew.” A wry expression fills his face. “As you can imagine, that created a bit of a situation. But Antonio, being Antonio, wouldn’t back down. It wasn’t the right time for him to attempt to take over, and he almost failed. But luckily for us all, he didn’t. And here we are.”
That’s a lot to process. “Wow,” I murmur. “I did not know any of that.”
He gestures to the stove behind me, where the milk is on the verge of boiling over. “You probably should turn down the stove.”
I finish making the hot chocolate, and Dante takes it out to Angelica. I stay in the kitchen. This is the first chance I’ve had to really think about the Titian, and I need a moment to digest everything.
Antonio returned the Titian to the Palazzo Ducale. As happy as I am about it, it also means that I haven’t stolen a painting to mark my parents’ deaths.
I should be freaking out. The tenth anniversary of their deaths is only a few weeks away, and there should be a pit of clawing anxiety in my gut about my failure to complete my heist. This is the one thing I’ve done every year; my one way of remembering them and holding them close, and on this milestone anniversary, I’ve come up short.
But somehow, it’s not bothering me as much as it usually would. That cloying anxiety isn’t there. I feel content. I’m still going to steal that Jacopo Bassano from Gavin Powell—the man is an asshole who absolutely deserves to be targeted—but I’m going to do it because I want to. Not because I’m burning up with desperation.
And I have a sneaking suspicion that the king of Venice is responsible for this change.