Page 97 of Marry Me Not
CHAPTER 33
COSIMO
The heatof the sauna pressed in on me from every angle. I inhaled, bringing the familiar scent of wood, eucalyptus, and pine deep into my lungs. I held the breath for a few seconds before?—
The door of the sauna burst open, interrupting my ritual. I was about to snap at whichever staff member had forgotten the rules—that no one was allowed here outside of the maintenance hour—but when I opened my eyes, the words froze on my tongue.
It wasn’t one of the maids. It was my wife. And she appeared to be furious.
“Explain yourself,” Fabiana demanded.
I eyed the winter coat she had on. Why was she wearing that? She couldn’t possibly still be cold in the house. I’d cranked the temperature up after she complained.
Wait. She was supposed to be at pottery class. Her schedule sat printed on my desk, and I was pretty sure she wasn’t due back for at least another thirty minutes.
She’d left early. Come straight home. Hadn’t even taken off her coat before storming in here.
And whatever had put that look on her face was clearly my fault.
Shit.
I had a strong suspicion what this was about. But I wasn’t going to throw myself under the bus on the off chance I was wrong. “I have no idea what you mean,” I drawled.
“What are you doing, Cosimo?”
I looked down at myself. “Sweating.”
“Don’t play dumb. I don’t have the patience for it right now. You’re going to Italy.Tomorrow.”
So she knew. Irritation flickered through me. “Who told you?”
“Mia. Romolo informed her of your plans.”
“Son of a bitch.”Of course he fucking had. The king of secrets appeared to be incapable of keeping any where that girl was concerned.
“You’re unbelievable,” Fabiana said. “You were going to chase down a lead that I got you, and you weren’t even going to tell me about it?”
“I was going to tell you.” I leaned forward and placed my elbows on my knees. A bead of sweat slid from the tip of my nose and dropped to the bench. “Eventually.”
“When?” She planted her palms on her hips. “After you came back?”
I mean, yeah. That had been the plan before Rom had to go out and ruin it with his big mouth. “This has nothing to do with you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t.” She tore her coat off and dropped it on the floor by the door. “Mia thinks you’re taking me on a honeymoon. And I guess she’s right, because I’m coming with you.”
I shook my head. “You’re not coming.” It was out of the question. If this Santoro lead panned out, there was a chance things could get dangerous. Grottaglie might’ve looked like a quaint little Italian village when I looked it up earlier today, but I knew better than to take that at face value. If the town was connected to the Santoros the way other Italian towns were sometimes connected to dangerous families, I could be walking into a trap.
I could handle myself. But having Fabiana in tow? It just wasn’t worth the risk.
She uncoiled the scarf from around her neck and tossed it toward her coat. “You need me there with you.”
“I’m more than capable of handling the situation on my own.”
She scoffed. “No, you’re not. Goddamn it, Cosimo. Ceramics is the one thing I actually know better than you! Us being there on a honeymoon is the perfect cover story. I can say I’ve dreamt of owning some Quaranta pieces, and so you’ve brought me there to try and find some. That’s the kind of story that might actually get the artisans and workshop owners to talk to us. Otherwise, you’re just some random nosy guy asking them invasive questions about one of their important patrons. Why would they tell you anything?”
My jaw firmed. She had a point, but I wasn’t going to risk her safety for a cover story. No way. “I’m the underboss, Fabiana. You think this is my first rodeo? I’ll figure it out.”
“You won’t.” She pushed up the sleeves of her cashmere sweater. I didn’t know how she was still standing in here in that and a pair of jeans. I’d cranked up the burner to the max when I came in. “You’ll come back empty-handed, and by then, it’ll be too late for you to realize that I was right all along.”
