Between Loyalty and You

Chapter 5 (Elena's POV)

Luca was at breakfast before me.

He stood when I entered, then seemed to reconsider the movement halfway through.

I tried not to smile.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.”

Rosa set a cup beside my plate.

“Coffee today. Anna says one.”

“I’m beginning to suspect Anna runs this house.”

“She does until you’re well.”

Luca pulled out my chair.

His fingers brushed my shoulder as I sat, a brief touch hidden by the fall of my hair.

I forgot what I had meant to say next.

Across the table, he unfolded his newspaper.

I watched him do it.

Rosa watched me.

“Toast?” she asked.

“Yes. Please.”

Luca turned a page.

It was upside down.

I pressed my lips together.

He noticed, looked at the paper, and lowered it with remarkable dignity.

Neither of us spoke until Rosa returned to the kitchen.

Then I leaned forward.

“Interesting news?”

“Very.”

“Impressive that you can read it from any direction.”

“Elena.”

I loved the warning in his voice when there was no weight behind it.

The kitchen door swung shut.

He glanced toward it, then back at me.

I rose carefully and crossed to his chair.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Checking something.”

His hand settled lightly at my waist as I leaned down.

The kiss was brief. Warm coffee, the faint roughness of his jaw, his mouth softening beneath mine.

When I pulled away, he followed me an inch before stopping himself.

“Yes,” I murmured.

“Yes, what?”

“Still a good idea.”

I returned to my chair before Rosa came back.

Luca watched me the entire way.

We made no agreement.

Perhaps that was why it became so easy to do it again.

Late that morning, I found him in the library searching for a book.

“Third shelf,” I said from the doorway.

He glanced over his shoulder.

“How do you know what I’m looking for?”

“You mentioned it yesterday.”

He found the title and drew it out.

“You listen.”

“Occasionally.”

I went to examine the harbor painting again. In daylight, the old repairs were more obvious.

Behind me, the library door clicked shut.

I turned.

Luca remained beside it, his hand on the handle.

“Marco’s on the terrace,” he said.

“Am I supposed to do something with that information?”

His mouth curved.

Then he crossed the room.

I barely had time to smile before he kissed me.

One hand cradled my jaw. The other rested at my back, careful as ever. I caught his sleeve and held him there for another kiss, slower than the first.

He drew away just enough to speak.

“You should be resting.”

“I was looking at a painting.”

“That can be exhausting.”

“You have no idea.”

He kissed the corner of my mouth.

Outside, a chair scraped across the terrace.

We separated.

Luca opened his book. I faced the harbor, though I couldn’t have said anything intelligent about it if my career depended on it.

Marco passed the window without looking in.

I waited until he was gone.

“This is ridiculous,” I whispered.

“Yes.”

Neither of us moved away.

In the afternoon, I called the workshop.

Marta answered with a pencil tucked behind one ear and a blue stain on her sleeve.

“There you are. Show me your face.”

“You’re looking at it.”

“Turn toward the light. You look pale.”

“Everyone keeps telling me that. It’s becoming tedious.”

She carried the phone through the workshop, giving me a shaky tour of everything I was missing. Someone waved from behind a canvas. The radio played too loudly. My empty stool had become a shelf for folded clothes.

Ordinary things.

I felt an ache that had nothing to do with my wound.

“When are you coming back?” Marta asked.

“As soon as I’m cleared to travel.”

“We’ll start you on short days.”

“I can manage more than—”

“Elena. Short days.”

I sighed.

“Fine.”

We spent twenty minutes discussing the altarpiece. By the end, I had made notes, disagreed twice, and felt like myself again.

Luca was waiting in the corridor when I opened the door.

He held a glass of water.

“Rosa sent that?” I asked.

“No.”

I took it.

“How was Florence?”

“Loud. Disorganised. Somebody has stolen my good brushes.”

“Sounds serious.”

“It is. I’m considering calling the police.”

He smiled, but it faded when I mentioned returning.

“Marta says I can start with half days.”

“Good.”

I studied him.

“You don’t sound convinced.”

“I’m glad they’re making room for you.”

“But?”

He looked at the notes in my hand.

“I’ll miss finding you in the library.”

The answer caught me unprepared.

He seemed almost surprised he had said it.

I set the water on the little table beside my door.

“Come here.”

“Elena, we’re in the corridor.”

“Then come inside.”

He followed me into the sitting area of my room.

I waited until he had set the door nearly closed, then caught his hand.

“I haven’t left yet.”

“I know.”

I kissed him.

He took a breath against my lips, then kissed me back, his fingers slipping between mine.

This one lasted long enough for my notes to fall to the floor.

We looked down at them.

“Your instructions for the police?” he asked.

I laughed, and he bent to gather the pages before I could try.

That evening, Papa called during dinner.

His face filled my phone screen, tired but smiling.

“How’s my girl?”

“Being fed constantly.”

“Good.”

“That wasn’t a compliment.”

“Put Luca on.”

I handed over the phone.

Luca leaned back in his chair.

“Matteo.”

Watching them speak was worse than I expected.

Papa asked about the house, then Anna, then whether I had attempted anything foolish.

Luca looked at me.

“Nothing she’ll admit to.”

I should have laughed.

Instead, I stared at my plate.

“You see?” Papa said when Luca returned the phone. “I knew you’d be comfortable there.”

“Yes,” I said.

“He’s practically family.”

Across the table, Luca went still.

I told Papa I was tired soon afterward.

It wasn’t entirely a lie.

I found Luca in the little room beside the library where Rosa kept the glasses and drinks.

He was putting away a bottle of wine.

For once, he hadn’t heard me approach.

“Are we going to stop speaking again?” I asked.

He set the bottle down.

“No.”

“You’ve been quiet.”

“So have you.”

I stepped inside. He moved aside to give me room, but I stayed near the door.

“I didn’t like lying to him.”

“Neither did I.”

We stood with that for a moment.

Down the hall, Rosa spoke to someone about tomorrow’s deliveries.

“I don’t know what this is yet,” I admitted.

Luca looked at me steadily.

“You don’t have to decide tonight.”

“But it’s something.”

“Yes.”

“More than a few stolen kisses?”

He came closer.

“For me, yes.”

The answer settled somewhere deep enough to frighten me.

“Then don’t disappear every time you feel guilty.”

“I’ll try.”

“No. Tell me when you need space. Don’t leave me guessing.”

He nodded.

“All right.”

I reached for his hand.

“I can manage complicated things. I can’t manage being the only person who knows we’re in it.”

His fingers tightened around mine.

“You’re not.”

This time, when he kissed me, there was nothing playful about it.

He rested one hand against the door frame beside my head and waited for me to close the remaining distance. I did, carefully, sliding my palm over his chest.

For a moment, I felt his heartbeat.

It was no steadier than mine.

Footsteps sounded in the library.

Luca lifted his head.

I stepped back, breathless, just as Rosa called his name.

He answered without taking his eyes off me.

I picked up a clean glass.

When Rosa appeared, I was filling it with water, and Luca was examining a bottle he had already put away.

“There you both are,” she said.

“Yes,” I answered too quickly.

She glanced at the glass in my hand.

Then she looked at the full one I had left on the table behind me.

I followed her gaze.

Luca closed his eyes for half a second.

Rosa said nothing.

Somehow, that was worse.