Page 38 of Mafioso's Muse

Paula looked up from her plate. ‘I made cannoli?—’

‘Later, Ma,’ Vaughn said. ‘Let Willow digest dinner first.’

Willow’s stomach protested at the mere mention of more food.

A knowing look settled on Paula’s face. ‘Of course. Take your time. Be sure to show Willow the herb garden.’

Rising, Willow followed Vaughn out of the dining room and through the house to the back door. They exited to an alfresco area, which was lit up by festoon lights. Willow took a moment to appreciate the space before they stepped down into the garden.

It was a peaceful haven that made her forget they were only minutes from the city. The air smelled of basil and flowers. Willow stopped in front of the herb garden Paula had mentioned. ‘Rosemary, basil, parsley, mint. The rest I have no idea.’

Vaughn pointed. ‘Sage, thyme, marjoram, oregano, dill.’

She was suitably impressed. ‘Well, aren’t you full of surprises? Did you spend time out here with your mum as a kid?’

He nodded. ‘And Nonna. I cooked with them too. Though unfortunately, the habit didn’t stick.’

Willow regarded him as they continued walking. ‘What’s your go-to dish to impress a date?’

‘I don’t cook for people. On the rare occasion I do date, we eat at a restaurant.’

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Everydate? What if you can’t be bothered going out and just want a quiet night in?’

‘Then I’ll stay at home—alone. If I can’t be bothered going out, then I’m in no mood for company.’

It was an honest answer, at least. ‘Fair enough.’

Vaughn slid his hands into his pockets. ‘If Iwasto cook for a date, I would keep it simple. A mushroom risotto or filetto di pomodoro with a leafy salad and a good shiraz.’

‘Thankfully, I’m in no condition to get hungry again.’ The image of him plating Italian food in a pristine kitchen flashed in her mind, his face serious, an open bottle of wine breathing nearby. In this image, she was seated on a stool, perhaps admiring his knife skills. She expelled the thought and changed the subject. ‘Is it normal for Antonio to disappear halfway through his meal?’

Vaughn watched his feet for a few paces. ‘Presumably, he had business to tend to.’

She nodded slowly. ‘Is it the same for you? The phone rings and you get up and leave?’

‘I leave if I have to. Sometimes things can’t wait.’

They continued towards a small grove of citrus trees. Willow was turning a sprig of rosemary she had picked between her fingers. ‘When you say “business,” are you referring to DeLuca Construction or your bars?’

He looked at her. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Making conversation.’

‘About business?’

‘About everything.’ She swallowed. ‘Am I not allowed to ask you questions?’

He exhaled, like he was tired of her. Maybe he was. ‘There are family businesses and personal businesses. Often they overlap. That’s all you need to know.’

She chewed on her lip as her curiosity got the better of her. ‘The trial that took place last year?—’

‘What about it?’ His tone had an edge.

‘Paula mentioned earlier that it was tough on you.’

‘Did she now?’

‘I imagine the media attention took its toll.’