Page 109 of Promised to the Don of Naples
"Luca."
"Bella mia."
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. Then he slid out from under me carefully, taking a robe from the corner armchair, putting it on and tying it at the waist.
"I'll be back."
"Lo so."
He smiled—just a little, the way he did—and went.
I stayed in the bed.
The white curtain billowing, the sea down below, the linen sheet still warm from the weight of him.
Two whole hours, I thought. I had two whole hours without thinking.
CHAPTER 34
"I asked for a name; he gave me one that didn't hurt. It was the first lie of our marriage."
Valentina MORETTI
He came back.
Twenty minutes later, in a black robe tied at the waist, his hair wet from the quick shower he'd taken in another bathroom.
He didn't look at me right away. He went to the chair by the window and sat down, watching the sea.
I pulled the sheet up to my chest and sat up in bed.
"Luca."
"Bella mia."
"What is it?"
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. For the first time in almost a month of marriage, I saw real exhaustion on his face.
"Acquaviva wanted to move it up."
"Move what up?"
"The three names."
I swallowed hard.
"And you heard them."
"I heard them."
The three names were in my husband's head. And I, married to him for three weeks, lying in the bed of our honeymoon, didn't know them.
"Luca."
"Bella mia."
"Tell me."
