Page 39 of Tormented Diamonds
“Can I get you anything else?”
I guess we’re doing this now.
“No, thank you, but could you tell me if there’s a Bobby that works here.”
“He’s the owner.” Her eyes narrow to thin slits. “Why?”
“I’d just like to offer my compliments. The food was delicious.”
Her gaze lowers to my plate of untouched caprese. “I’ll see if he’s busy.”
Not even one minute later, a thin man with a ring of black hair around his head rushes toward me, wiping his hands on his apron, a bright smile on his face. “Buongiorno. My name is Bobby Sartorre. I’m the owner, and…” The words die on his tongue as I glance up, his smile disappearing as he grabs onto a chair. “Madre di Dio. It’s you.”
Chapter Twelve
BECCA
Bobby Sartorre’s glassy-eyed stare makes me feel like an exhibit at a zoo.
“Do I know you?”
He blinks, the fog lifting. “My apologies. You look just like my late niece. The resemblance…” He runs a shaking hand down the front of his shirt as he straightens. “It’s uncanny.”
Not my first time hearing that, but okay.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Grazie. And you are…?”
“Becca,” I say, extending my hand with a smile. “What was your niece’s name?”
He takes my hand. “Victoria.”
I stiffen, my smile dropping. “Victoria Fiero?”
Bobby pinches his eyebrows together and opens his mouth to say something, only for his entire demeanor to shift as he turns toward the entrance. Focusing through theaura of lights crowding my vision, I see Leo come barreling through the door, hands fisted.
“Che circolo vizioso del male,” Bobby spits out, turning to me with eyes that are now hard and cold. “You’re the replacement.” He drops my hand as if it burned him. “I should’ve known.”
I push my chair back and stand on unsteady legs. “With all due respect, Mr. Sartorre, you know nothing about me.”
His laugh is sharp enough to shave steel. “I know all I need to.”
My unease tightens to a righteous knot. “I don’t know what you think you know, but allow me to educate you.” I lift my chin. “I’m no one’s replacement. Now, if you’d like to have a civilized conversation, I’d be happy to elaborate. Otherwise, I suggest you check that unwarranted aggression and put that energy into something more productive.”
He stares at me like he’s trying to chisel into my mind. Eventually, he folds his heavily tattooed arms across his chest and lets out a clipped huff. “I can see why Marchesi chose you.”
“So you know my husband well?” I ask, my balance stabling. Leo is still standing by the door fuming like a firework lit on the wrong end, but I don’t care. I’m not wasting this opportunity.
“We have mutual acquaintances.”
“Does he come here a lot?”
“Occasionally.”
Jesus.It’s like trying to swim in an empty pool.
“For what?” I prod. “Meals? A payout, perhaps?”
