Page 43 of Stalk

“What’s wrong?” Giorgia answers almost immediately. I feel bad when I realize calling her this way probably spooked her.

“Niente, niente!”I reassure her.“Mi dispiace.I didn’t mean to scare you. I just need a favor.”

Giorgia exhales roughly.“Stronzo.What is it?”

I can’t help but smile into the phone. Oh, how I wish she was here with me. “It is a serious matter,” I say slowly, feeling thankful that Zìa doesn’t tap our personal phones. “One that Zìa cannot know about.”

“Naughty. Tell me more.”

I fill Giorgia in on what happened the night I met Ren, how we met up later when they asked to talk to me, and how I’ve found nothing so far about their family or Catherine Burdick.

When I’m finished, Giorgia doesn’t answer right away. I pull the phone away from my ear to make sure the call didn’t drop. Finally, she responds. “Why do you care, Mattia? Why get involved after Zìa explicitly told you not to?”

Cannella is finally exhausted from playing fetch and drops down beside my feet, panting away. I bend down to pet her soft coat as I try to figure out mywhy.

“Honestly, G, I am not sure. I think Ren needs someone in their corner. They don’t have what we do. No family. Not a lot of support. I just?—”

“You want to help them,” Giorgia says simply.

I look up at the sunny sky and nod to myself. “I suppose so.”

She laughs and the sound warms me more than the sun on my face. “Compassion is a strange look on you, brother. I’ll see what I can find out—but if Zìa finds out about any of this, I’m blaming everything on you.”

“Fair enough.”

Ren and I decided to meet here, at the house, so I have Marco pick them up downtown. The last thing we need is for their boss to wonder why Ren is being escorted by a strange Italian man in an SUV.

As soon as Marco leaves, Cannella and I go into the kitchen. First, I give her a bowl of expensive raw dog food mixed with a little kibble that I bought at the pet store. I truly don’t know what’s gotten into me lately. Not only am I helping a random American assassin, but now I’m the father of a spoiled rat dog? I shake my head as I set her sparkly pink bowl down. I need to get back to Italy sooner rather than later, that much I know for sure.

Once Cannella is happily chomping away at her dinner, I start on dinner for myself and Ren. Because now I’m apparently cooking for them, too. However, I’m cooking tonight mostly for selfish reasons. I can afford to eat out for each and every meal, but I’m sick of take-out. There’s nothing like a home-cooked meal, and though I am the only boy out of my mother’s children, she didn’t save all of the cooking lessons for my sisters. She taught me quite well, and for that, I am thankful.

I wasn’t sure what Ren likes, so I decided to go with a fresh Caprese salad, an antipasto platter, and a simple Margherita pizza. Because all Americans like pizza…right?

I groan. I don’t know why I care. If Ren doesn’t like it for whatever reason, there’s plenty of other food around here. Before I get started, I pour myself a large glass of Pinot Grigio and take a gulp, because I don’t want to think about what’s lingering in my mind. I don’t want to dive into the reasons behind why they get under my skin or why I somehow find myselfcaringfor them more and more.

Fuck that.

Thankfully, cooking is a good distraction. After my father died, my mother stayed in bed for a week. When she finally emerged from the bedroom, she cooked for days. She cooked anything and everything she could think of. We had so much food that Zìa would take leftovers to our neighbors, her friends across town, and anyone else she would bump into along theway. Now that I’m older, I understand why she cooked and cooked, day and night.

The Caprese salad doesn’t take longer than ten minutes. Once it’s finished, I begin making the pizza. After my cheesy masterpiece is in the oven, I put together the antipasto platter.Perfetto.I’ve just finished the platter when I hear the front door unlock.

Cannella yaps and runs into the foyer as my heartbeat increases with each second that passes.

Marco calls out,“Tesoro, siamo a casa!” Honey, we’re home!

I roll my eyes and take another sip of wine. Before Marco and Ren can walk into the large kitchen, Cannella runs back to me, tongue hanging out as she pants. She jumps up on my calf as if to say, “Papà! We have company!” I set my glass down on the kitchen island and then bend down to pet my spoiled princess rat.

“I see there’s been an addition to the family,” Ren points out as they look down at my little beast. I glance up and see them standing beside us with their arms crossed, trying and failing to hide the smirk on their face.

“Did Marco enlighten you on how I obtained Cannella?” I ask as I come to a stand.

Ren nods, the smirk on their lips slowly turning into a full-fledged grin. “I never would have taken you as an animal person.”

“I did not know that I was,” I grumble.

Marco stands on the other side of the island, and I admit I almost forgot he was here.

“Puoi portarmi il cibo quando è finito?”Marco asks me to bring the food up to his room when it’s ready.

---