Page 58 of Promised to the Don of Naples

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"Capisco."

Luca stepped back half a step, putting his hand in the inside pocket of his jacket. Then he took out his phone and dialed.

"Acquaviva. Send two men to Capri. Via Tragara, the pink house. Take Matteo and bring him to Posillipo, to the south cellar. Not a room. The cellar." He paused, watching him. "Yes. I know what I'm asking." A pause. "No. That I'll decide later."

He hung up, and my brother stood.

"Luca, please…"

"Sit down, Matteo."

"Luca…"

"You're going to Posillipo, and you'll stay there until the wedding. And after the wedding, I decide whether you come out of the cellar as my fratello again, or as the man who spent seven years without sending word."

Then Luca looked at me.

"Bella, you have five minutes."

And he left the room.

I was alone with my brother for the first time in seven years. And I had no choice—I went to him and hugged him.

He hugged me back. Hard. And then he cried, the way I'd never seen a man in my family cry.

I cried too, but five minutes later I went down the stairs with my heart heavy in a new way.

Because the man I'd kissed twenty hours before had just shown me, in three sentences, exactly what kind of man he was.

And I hadn't pulled back, and that scared me more than the kiss.

LUCA MORETTI

I came down the stairs of the pink house slowly.

Donna Carmela was still in the hall below, the edge of her apron still in her hand.

"Donna Carmela."

"Don."

"You sheltered the son of my enemy for two months."

"I know."

"You're going to have a problem with that."

She nodded.

"But my grandfather was very fond of you. So the problem will be small. Move out of Capri tomorrow and go to Sorrento. I'll pay for the house."

"Grazie, Don."

"Don't thank me. Work."

I stepped out of the pink house onto Via Tragara.

The sun was high now, the tourists were starting to appear in their straw hats, the bougainvillea glowed on the wall.

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