Page 98 of Of Oaths and Secrets

Dr. Westley, seated further down the table, raises a hand with a slight nod. “If I may add one more question. Considering Dante’s approach to societal critique, how do you think this same method appears, if at all, in contemporary Italian literature? Are today’s writers still navigating similar tensions between art and censorship?”

I feel a thrill of excitement at the question. “Absolutely,” I reply, diving into an explanation of how modern Italian authors use fiction to confront political and social taboos, echoing Dante’s layered approach, though often with subtler techniques adapted to modern audiences and regulations. "Contemporary authors like Elena Ferrante, for instance, explore personal and cultural conflicts that speak to Italy’s broader social issues, creating the same sense of layered meaning."

When I finish, Dr. Westley nods with a look of approval. “You’ve done an excellent job. It’s clear you understand both the historical context and its modern relevance. Well done, Mrs. Lucchese.”

The formalities wrap up, and as I gather my papers, I spot Lucia through the glass, practically vibrating with excitement. The moment I step out, she pounces, pulling me into a tight hug.

"You crushed it!” she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

“You could not hear anything!"

“Doesn’t matter. I saw the way you were sitting there and the way they looked at you!”

Laughing, I hug her too. "Thanks. I can finally concentrate fully on getting this little girl out."

Lucia rubs my belly. “I can’t wait to meet my goddaughter.” She grabs my hand. “Now it’s time to celebrate, Ms. Dante Scholar!” She beams. “Lunch, mani-pedis, and don’t forget, there’s that boutique with the?—”

“Yes, yes,” I laugh, “the sexy maternity lingerie.”

“We head to the car, still buzzing with excitement. As soon as we settle in, Lucia leans over, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “So… don’t freak out, but I have a bit of a crush confession.”

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow, knowing exactly where this is going. “Do tell.”

She blushes, glancing away as if she’s embarrassed to say it out loud. “It’s… Paolo.”

My eyes widen, and a smirk forms on my lips. “Paolo?OurPaolo?”

She nods, her cheeks turning pink. “I don’t know… he’s just so funny. And he’s got that mischievous grin like he’s always up to no good. And… he’s kind of hot, right?”

I nudge her playfully. “More than kind of! And you have great taste, my friend.”

She laughs, a little embarrassed. “Well, don’t you dare tell him!”

“Oh, are you kidding? I’m absolutely playing matchmaker now,” I tease, practically bouncing in excitement. “I can already picture the two of you causing trouble together. Paolo’s going to be beside himself.”

“Shh!” Lucia glances nervously at the driver up front. “Not a word!”

“I promise. For now.” I wink at her, savoring the new mission I’ve just given myself.

The ride to the restaurant is filled with teasing banter about Paolo and my newfound role as her personal matchmaker. Lucia keeps trying to backtrack, to say she’s joking, but I can tell she’s flustered in the best way.

“You know, Paolo said he likes women who are ‘fiery,’ and I think you fit that description perfectly,” I tease as we pull to a stop, still giggling.

Lucia rolls her eyes, though she can’t hide her grin. “I swear, Nora, one more word about this, and I’ll tell your husband you fancy his consigliere.”

“Touché!” I laugh, holding my hands up in surrender. “Fine, truce. For now.”

We step out of the car, the laughter still in the air as we gather our bags. Just then, Lucia nudges me, her brow furrowing as she glances around. “Wait… did the driver just leave?”

I turn, confusion tightening in my chest. “He… ran off?”

A loud crack pierces the alleyway, and before I can process the sound, our guard collapses to the ground. My stomach drops, dread replacing every ounce of joy from moments before. My body freezes, instinct screaming at me to move, to do something, but my limbs feel locked in place.

Lucia lets out a gasp, stepping back just as a figure emerges from the shadows, swinging a fist hard into her side. She stumbles, falling to the pavement with a sharp cry.

My pulse races, the world blurring around me. I try to turn, to run, but a rough hand grabs me, and a cloth is pressed against my face. The sickly, sweet scent fills my senses, clouding my thoughts. I struggle, every muscle straining, but it’s no use. My vision fades, my limbs go numb, and as the sounds of the alley drift away, Lucia’s faint, panicked cries are the last thing I hear before everything goes black.

Chapter Twenty-Four

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