Dinner was at a small Italian place two streets from the hospital.
Not one of his hotels. Not somewhere with a private elevator and floor to ceiling windows and a bed within walking distance. Just a restaurant, warm and a little noisy, with candles on the tables and a waiter who knew Luca by name and showed us to a corner table without being asked.
I noticed he did that sometimes. Chose ordinary places when he wanted me to relax. Like he understood that the hotels and the suites and the forty second floor had a particular charge to them that made it difficult for me to think clearly and occasionally he wanted me to actually think clearly.
I wasn't sure whether that was considerate or strategic.
With Luca it was usually both.
We ordered. He got pasta, which surprised me for reasons I c
