‘What about me?’ Dario asked, sliding onto the bench next to Lucy and taking a sip of wine.
Lucy shrugged and laughed. ‘That’s between Pino and me.’
‘Tonight,cara,’said Dario, his voice turning serious, ‘I have something important to tell you.’
Lucy felt her heart pick up speed. ‘Yes?’
Dario drew a deep, uneven breath. ‘You remember the man with the scar who threaten you last Christmas?’
Lucy nodded, heart now hammering in her chest.
‘He was the gang leader behind the murder of Giancarlo. Finally, this afternoon, we have enough evidence to arrest him.’
Lucy’s mouth fell open, a rogue tear slithering down her cheek. ‘Oh Dario. I don’t know what to say… Are you okay?’ she said, reaching over and touching his hand. ‘Does Elena know?’
‘Sì. I met with the family as soon as I could.’
‘Strange. She didn’t mention it.’
‘Because she want me to give you the news. I keep my promise to Giancarlo, and you help to get his murderer off the street so he cannot harm other good, innocent people. Is a time for celebration, no sadness,’ said Dario, gently brushing away her tears with his thumb. ‘Now, let’s eat!’ Studying the menu, he continued, ‘You know, we have a saying in Italy. “Finchè c’è pizza c’è speranza”. This mean “as long as there is pizza there is hope.”’
‘“Fin – kay – chay pizza – chay spareanza.”I like that,’ said Lucy, taking out her phone and attempting to tap the phrase into her Notes.
‘Is this correct?’ she asked, passing the phone to Dario.
He giggled.
‘What?’
‘The only word you spell correct is “pizza”.’
‘Really?’
‘Veramente.’ Dario shook his head, rewriting the note and handed her back the phone. ‘There!Perfetto!How long you live in Italy? One week?’
‘Okay, Mr Know-It-All, while we’re on the subject of language, it’s “spelledcorrectly”, not “spell correct”, and “how longhave you livedin Italy?’”
He shrugged. ‘You are the linguist, no me. I am—’
‘Notme. Not “no me”,’ said Lucy, rolling her eyes and taking a playful swipe at him with her napkin.
Dario grabbed her hand and held it to his lips, gazing up ather momentarily with those darkly smouldering eyes, ‘Allora,’he said, handing her the menu, ‘Which pizza you like?’
Lucy smirked. ‘Which pizzawouldyou—’
‘Basta! Enough!’ cried Dario, placing his hand over her mouth.
Perhaps it was the wine, the pizza, the banter, the opera, or a combination of everything, but this had to be the best birthday Lucy could remember.
‘I have a special birthday present for you,’ Dario said as they approached the taxi rank. ‘Is at my home. May I show you?’
Lucy regarded him with a sceptical look.
Dario flashed a wolfish smile. ‘I sound like a Casanova, no?’
Lucy burst out laughing. ‘Well, yes. You do actually.’
Dario shrugged. ‘Is true – I mean, is true that I have a gift for you, no that I am… It was too big to bring to the opera. I can deliver to Elena’s tomorrow if you prefer.’
