Page 25 of Promised to the Don of Naples
He set the cup on the desk and reached up, his arm passing close to my head. He took the blue book off the shelf. When he lowered his arm, he had the book in his right hand and his shoulder was close to mine.
"Ecco." He held it out to me.
I took it.
And in that exact second, exactly when my hand touched his around the book, the library door opened.
Luca stopped in the doorway and looked at the two of us.
I watched him read it in three split seconds—he saw Raffaele behind me, saw the book between us, saw Raffaele's hand touching mine. He said nothing for two seconds. When he spoke, his voice had that calm that was worse than a shout.
"Good morning."
"Good morning, fratello," Raffaele said, not moving from behind me, in no hurry at all.
"You're busy, I see."
"Getting a book down from up high. Cognatina's short."
I took a step forward and held the book against my chest.
"Good morning, Luca."
He looked at me, but didn't answer my good morning.
"Raffaele. You have a nine o'clock with Acquaviva."
"I have a ten o'clock with Acquaviva."
"You had. He just called me and moved it up."
Raffaele looked at me, then at his brother.
"Allora." He took his cup from the desk. "I'll leave you with great-grandfather's Tolstoy, cognatina."
He left and passed Luca in the doorway. The two of them exchanged a look I couldn't read.
Now it was just the two of us in the library.
Luca came in and closed the door behind him with his left hand, without turning to look at what he was doing. Then he came to the desk in the center. Not toward me—toward the desk. Then he rested both hands on the edge.
"What are you doing, Valentina?"
"Reading your great-grandfather's memoirs. You could have brought me that photo yesterday."
"I could have."
"Why didn't you?"
He looked up.
"Because yesterday I was giving you one truth at a time. And you couldn't wait for the next one."
"You think I shouldn't have opened the envelope."
"I think you opened the envelope when the wrong person wanted you to."
He came to where I was and stopped in front of me—not too close, but close enough that I had to lift my chin. Then he looked at the book against my chest.
