Chapter 47
Isabella
There was a time in my life that I truly hated going to the grocery store. It was such a chore, and I hated making a list, so I always ended up going aisle by aisle because I could never remember what I actually needed.
Right now, perusing the same aisles with Amalia, Elio at our backs, I felt an immediate sense of relief. Getting groceries at the store was something people did in real life. Normal, average people weren’t being kept in a gilded cage and forced to confront all of the worst moments of their lives.
But Lorenzo seemed to be on a campaign to make me feel more “human” again, and so far, I had been able to speak to Gemma on the phone and plan a lunch. And now, I was walking around the store, helping Amalia locate ingredients she would need for the coming week’s menu.
Not that it was entirely ordinary. We were getting a lot of looks from the other customers, but it had very little to do with either Amalia or me.
Instead, it was Elio. Some of the women were looking at him like he was something to climb and conquer.
Those women were chased off from a none-too-subtle glare from Amalia.
The rest were giving Elio a wide berth, like he was seconds away from flipping out and killing people with his bare hands.
People were actually very perceptive, even if they didn’t consciously realize it.
“What are you making for dinner tonight?” I asked as we headed toward the dried pasta aisle.
I knew that Amalia had a whole shelf in the pantry with different kinds of pastas.
She didn’t need to add more, but she liked to find different, interesting shapes and spring them on Lorenzo.
“Cristian was coming to hear Lorenzo’s confession, right? ”
She hummed in reply. “I usually make a chicken or eggplant parmesan,” she said. “But Lorenzo has asked that I take that out of rotation for the time being.”
My stomach rolled at the mention of eggplant. “Yeah, I could understand that.”
“So, what are you in the mood for? It doesn’t have to be Italian.”
I giggled and clutched at my invisible pearls. “Feeding the Vitali brothers something that doesn’t have pasta, tomatoes, or garlic in it? Blasphemy.”
We laughed even harder when Elio stepped up. “Are you really not making Italian tonight, tesoro?” He looked like someone had run over his dog.
Amalia reached up and patted his face, a series of sharp little taps that barely seemed to bother him at all. “I’m making whatever Isabella asks for.”
Elio pouted. “Why her? You never ask me what I want.”
“Because I don’t need to,” she said. “I know you better than anyone.”
It was an unexpectedly sweet thing to say, and from the dumbfounded look on Elio’s face, he hadn’t been expecting it either.
He smiled, and he looked boyish. It melted the hard edges off his expression.
They stared at one another, awkward but cute, and I realized that at some point in the last few months, they had fallen in love.
They weren’t just a political, convenient marriage anymore. The emotions I was seeing were real.
It was the most darling thing I’d ever gotten to witness, but my heart panged painfully, as if to remind me that I would never get that with Lorenzo. I had no doubt now that he found me attractive and wanted to have sex with me, but beyond that?
“Isabella,” Amalia said, eyes still on her husband. “Decide what you want, okay? I’d like to get home so I have time for a nap before I start dinner.”
I would have been fine to suggest that we order pizza, but for as nice as Lorenzo was behaving right now, he would go apeshit if some stranger showed up at the estate. Pizza or no.
“Let’s go see if they have Japanese curry,” I said.
Amalia looked dubious. “Curry?”
“It’s not hot,” I assured her. “Flavorful, but not so spicy that your face melts or anything.” I took her hand and started dragging her to the international aisle. “Just trust me.”
While we walked to the right aisle, I looked up a recipe online so that I knew I was getting what we needed.
I had made Japanese curry a handful of times, but it had been a while, and I wanted to make sure I found the very best for tonight.
Unless it was good, I’d probably never be allowed to ask for something in the dinner rotation again.
So, it had to be perfect.
Once we had the actual green package of Japanese curry, we went to find the other ingredients.
We were making our way toward the produce when Elio stepped into the space that he had carefully made between him and us.
“Do not panic, and do not start look around frantically,” he said, voice pitched low so that even I could barely hear it.
“Someone has been following us. I’ve put them in nearly every aisle that we go down, and he never grabs anything. ”
I had to clamp down on my neck muscles because, of course, the first thing I wanted to do was look around and figure out who it was. “Does he look familiar?” I asked, trying to keep my face smiley, like it had been before.”
“He’s not Cosa Nostra,” Elio said through gritted teeth.
“Have you texted Lorenzo?”
He snorted. “Do you want him to lose his mind today? We have to go now.”
I looked at the shopping cart full of groceries. “What about—?”
“We’ll go another time. Right now, I need both of you to remain absolutely calm, but our goal is to make it to the car without anyone stopping us or becoming suspicious.”
Both Amalia and I understood, and we kept hold of our shopping cart for a little while longer so that it wouldn’t look off just leaving it in the middle of an aisle. Elio’s head was on a swivel now. His eyes had lost the last bit of their shine.
When we got closer to the front door, Elio hissed, and after tucking the shopping cart against the shelves, Amalia let go of it, and the three of us walked out the door. We didn’t run or make any sort of commotion, but my heart was battering itself against my ribs the whole time.
By the time we made it to the car, unlocked because Elio pressed the button on his key fob, I was sweating buckets. “Do you need anything?” he asked as we settled into the vehicle.
“Just get me home,” I panted. “Please.”
Elio nodded. “Of course,” he promised. “I will do my best.”