Page 28 of The Broker
I, on the other hand, look like I just crawled out of bed. Which I did. My hair is sticking out in a thousand different directions, my pajamas are faded flannel, my Pikachu T-shirt needs a wash, and I’m pretty sure my lashes have eye crud on them.
Argh.
“I can walk her to school if you want to go back to bed,” Dante says pleasantly as if last night never happened. “You look like you could use a few more hours of sleep.”
Asshole. And I’m never hitting that snooze button again.Never.I give him a saccharine smile. “Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”
“Okay.” He hears the edge in my voice, and the corners of his lips tilt up. It’seight.Nobody has any business being sexy this early. He gets to his feet. “If you’ve got the situation under control, I’ll head to work. You want me to pick Angelica up this afternoon?”
“Yes, please.” I turn to my daughter, who’s pretending to be deeply absorbed in the cereal. “I need to bring my computers here, kiddo. After school, can you hang out at Aunt Lucia’s apartment while I do that?”
“Will Uncle Dante be there too?”
Dante responds before I do. “Sure,” he says easily. “I’m not doing anything else.” He puts his bowl in the dishwasher. “The cleaners are scheduled for Tuesdays and Fridays, and while you’re here, I’ve arranged for Marta to deliver groceries daily. She’ll be here around noon.” He picks up his phone and texts me her contact information. “So please tell her what you need. And if the cleaning schedule doesn’t work for you—”
“It works great.” Cleaners twice a week soundsamazing.
“Good. Marta and Paulina have been vetted, of course, but I’ve told them the office is off-limits. I figured you wouldn’t want them in your stuff.”
“Thank you.” He’s making it really hard for me to stay mad at him. Which is a problem. Because when I’m not annoyed with Dante, I notice things like the breadth of his shoulders. The way the muscles in his forearms flex as he drinks his espresso. I remember the calluses in his fingers as he stroked my chin last night, remembering the butterflies in my stomach as he moved closer to me. . .
“Mama, I need thirty euros for my dance costume.” Angelica’s voice tugs me back to reality. “And do you know where my math textbook is?”
“Probably in your school bag. Come on, I’ll help you look.”
Leo accompanies me to my apartment. “So,” he says as I pack my computers. “You and Dante.”
I give the security chief a death glare. “There is no me and Dante, Leo. Angelica and I are merely living at his place until the Verratti issue is handled.”
“Of course. It’sperfectlynormal to make pasta without garlic.” He places a monitor into a moving box. “Did he like it?”
He scraped his plate clean. And then we had an almost kiss in the moonlight. “I have no idea,” I lie. “I didn’t ask. Can we focus on the packing? Once everything is set up, I need to rebuild my laptop.”
“The two of you,” Leo says with a shake of his head. “Never seen a pair of more oblivious people.” He tapes the box shut. “And what happens when Dante goes on his date on Friday?”
The breath leaves my lungs. Of course Dante’s going on a date. The events of the weekend made me forget, but like clockwork, the Broker goes on a date every month. It’s usually around the middle of the month, usually on a Friday night. It’s always a different woman, but he always takes her to the same restaurant. My nemesis is a creature of routine.
Then why does it feel like someone jabbed a fist into my heart?
Leo’s watching me, waiting for me to respond. I make myself speak. “I don’t care if he goes out on a date, Leo. Because, and let me say this really clearly so you understand, nothing is going on between Dante and me.”
He rolls his eyes, clearly unconvinced. “Whatever you say, Valentina. Whatever you say.”
I will swear in a court of law that there wasn’t a music player in Dante’s home office last night, but there is one by the time Leo and I return with my computers. There’s also a standing desk, a replica of the one I have at home, with a vase overflowing with daisies in one corner. My favorite flower.
To my everlasting gratitude, Leo doesn’t comment.
It takes me an hour to get everything set up how I like it. After that’s done, I get to work scrubbing Revenant’s virus from every single infected system. The doorbell rings while I’m in the middle of that mess.
It’s noon, which means Marta is here with groceries. I head downstairs to let her in. She gives me a bright smile as I open the door. “Signorina Linari, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Please, call me Valentina.” Dante forgot to tell me Marta is absolutely gorgeous. She’s roughly my age, but that’s where our similarities end. Marta looks like a young Sophia Loren. “You look like you have your arms full. Can I give you a hand with something?”
“Thank you.” She hands me a paper bag. “Signor Colonna asked me to bring you lunch. He said you’d probably forget to eat.”
My stomach rumbles loudly in support of her words. Dante strikes again, damn it. “Thank you.”
Marta puts away the groceries, shooing my offers to help. She chats with me as I eat, and by the time I’ve eaten, I learn she’s lived in Venice for three years, she never would have found her apartment if it wasn’t for Dante’s help, and the Katie person Angelica mentioned yesterday is her daughter.