44. Antonio
44
ANTONIO
“A re you going to the gala?”
It’s the Monday after we got back from Hungary, and Lucia and I are in my home. It’s late. Agnese is gone for the evening, so it’s just the two of us. It’s cold outside, but in my living room, the drapes are drawn, and the fireplace is lit, filling the room with warmth and softly flickering light.
Lucia is lying on my lap and watching something on TV. I should be paying attention—God knows it took us long enough to agree on what we wanted to watch—but I’m mostly looking at her.
“What gala?” I ask, playing with her hair.
“The Palazzo Ducale annual donor gala,” she replies. “I was in the break room today getting a cup of coffee, and Signora Sabatino tracked me down there to ask if I was going.” She sounds mildly disgruntled. “She doesn’t really care about whether I’m there—this is about you. She wants me to bring you.”
Every year, the museum hosts a glittering reception for its donors. They ply us with food and drink, and while they have us hostage, pitch us about all the great work they could be doing if we only gave them more money. I don’t usually go; I don’t need the hard sell to write them a check.
“Did she actually tell you that?”
Signora Sabatino has also offered Lucia a full-time job if she somehow convinces me to give the museum more money. I’d do it in a heartbeat if that’s what it takes to keep my little thief in Venice, but I don’t think it’ll work. Lucia doesn’t love working at the Palazzo Ducale, and I don’t think she sees a long-term future there.
“She didn’t say it outright, but she strongly hinted.”
“And what do you think? Do you want me to go with you?”
She avoids my gaze. “It’s a security risk,” she says. “Leo wouldn’t like it.”
She’s right; Leo’s not going to like it. But the real danger isn’t to me. The gala is a big, glittering affair, and everyone who was anyone in Venice will be there. Not to mention all her colleagues. If I accompany Lucia, she’s instantly going to become the object of attention. Everyone will want to know everything about the woman who’s dating Antonio Moretti.
I might as well paint a giant target on her back.
And yet. . .
“Leo’s not in charge. I am.” I give her a teasing look. “You want me to go to the gala with you. Is Lucia Petrucci asking me out on a date?”
She huffs exasperatedly. “Don’t sound so smug. I just don’t fancy the idea of dancing with Nicolo Garzolo. Or, heaven forbid, Felix Mayer.”
“You want to be seen in public with me,” I continue, ignoring her words. “You want the world to know I am besotted.” I pretend to consider her request. “I’m just saying, when I ask you out on a date, I send flowers. But that’s okay, Lucia. Baby steps.”
She snorts. “Besotted. I wish.”
I laugh and kiss her palm. “But I am besotted, cara mia. And I want the world to know. Do you need a dress?”
“No.” She twists around and fixes me with a glare. “Do not buy me a dress, Antonio. I’m dead serious. I’ll take care of it.”
“If you insist.”
She maintains her glare for another beat, and then her expression softens. “Thank you for coming with me.”
My heart squeezes in my chest. She’s seen the real me, the person behind the facade. She’s seen the hurt child and the angry teenager. She knows the thief who stole to survive and the man who will not hesitate to kill to protect the people he cares about.
She’s seen every version of me, and she’s still here. She still chose me. And to someone who was abandoned as a baby and rejected by his family, being chosen is a powerful, irresistible lure.
And I’ve taken the bait.
I’ve fallen in love with Lucia, and I’ve shown her, through my words and actions, that I’m not going anywhere. I promised her that her heart is safe with me, and I meant—mean—every word.
But I can’t shake off the feeling that I’m making a mistake. If something were to happen to Lucia, it would wreck me.
And yet, I’m gambling with her safety by letting her be associated with me.