Fidelity (Infidelity #5)

That was why I’d again called Vincent, why I’d requested a second audience with him in a single week. That was why as the temperature outside the car dropped, my skin was warm and prickling with anxiety.

Instead of meeting at Vincent’s home, he’d asked me to join him at a little restaurant off the beaten path. It wasn’t the same one where we’d met years ago, but the interior was similar: dark wood-paneled walls with a wooden floor, tables covered in red-and-white checkered tablecloths, and each table lit by a single candle flickering in a red jar. If it hadn’t truly been authentic Italian, it would look like it was trying too hard to be.

The aroma of delicious Italian spices beckoned as I opened the front door.

Places like this didn’t employ young girls to welcome customers. The hostess was closer to my age with eyes that had seen a lot and a quick tongue that would happily send tourists fleeing. The elite clientele served here didn’t play well with outsiders.

“Mr. Demetri, it’s been awhile.”

“Sophia, you’re as beautiful as ever.”

Her sexy but dangerous veneer cracked and her smile blossomed. “The eyesight, they say it’s the first to go.”

I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I have a meeting.”

“Yes, Mr. Costello is waiting.”

I looked down at my watch. He’d told me nine o’clock. It wasn’t even 8:30.

Sophia must have seen my concern. “He’s been here with the family. The others left.”

“It’s just Vincent and Luca?”

“No, Luca took Bella, Gabriella, and the baby home. Cute little thing. Not so little,” she said. “He has the cheeks of his grandfather.”

I shook my head. “Poor guy.”

“Your words, not mine.”

She pulled her black sweater over her breasts. Ever since the first time I’d met her, they hadn’t changed, not in thirty years. They were still full and perky and accentuated her small waist. It was amazing the work doctors could do.

“Come with me,” Sophia said with a wink.

Her heels clicked on the wooden floor as we passed tables filled with patrons and those completely empty. That was the way places like this worked. There were always tables available for the regulars, even if that meant turning down others at the door. It wasn’t a restaurant: it was a home, a dining room always available for family.

Delicious scents wafted through the air as I spotted Vincent and Jimmy. As usual, they were seated with their backs against the far wall.

“Your guest,” Sophia said as she gestured toward the table.

“Thank you, Sophia.” I turned to Vincent and placed my hand on the back of an empty chair. “Thank you for seeing me, Vincent. I hope I didn’t disrupt family time.”

Vincent nodded toward the chair, his way of telling me to sit. “No, Carmine was ready to go home. He’s not yet learned to appreciate the finer Italian cuisine.”

“Jimmy,” I nodded, taking the seat. Turning back to Vincent, I unbuttoned my topcoat. “I won’t keep you. I wanted to talk to you about my requests.”

“My men? Is there a problem?”

“No. They’ve been excellent. It’s my other request.”

“Eva. Her father is glad she’s back home.”

“Yes, she’s a remarkable girl.”

“A doctor,” Jimmy corrected.

“Yes, she is. An excellent one. I can never repay what she did. I’m here about the most recent request.”

“Oren, it’s time to cut the apron strings.”

I took a deep breath. “Your men—”

He lifted a hand. “You know how this works. It takes time.”

I did know how it worked. That was what bothered me. “I’m not recanting or asking you to renege.”

“No, why would you? You’ve loved her for many years. It must feel good to have your son make the request you’ve wanted to make. What happened? Did she ask you to spare him?” He waved his hand. “Women, they can be so emotional, even when it’s not warranted.”

We stopped talking as a waitress dressed all in black arrived with a tray holding three glasses of amber liquid. “Straight up?” she asked as she distributed the whiskey.

“Thank you,” I said. I lifted the glass and swirled the liquid. The strong aroma felt good as it burned my nose. It would be the first alcohol I’d even inhaled since moving Adelaide into my house.

When she walked away, I sat the glass down. “You knew. You knew who was at my home and didn’t say anything.”

Vincent shrugged. “I was waiting for you.”

“Chelsea Moore is real. She was there and she’d been injured. Now she’s with Lennox in Savannah.”

He shook his head. “It’s unusual, the whole situation. I agree.” His eyes closed. “Your first.” His eyes opened again, his gaze seemingly seeing the past. “You never forget. Someone else’s first, it means nothing.” He took a drink of his whiskey and grinned. “I almost forgot, but then it came back. The bar. Race fan. It was the surveillance that brought it full circle.”

“I didn’t… I never intended.”

“It happened.”