Rosa looks surprised. "Of course, Mrs. Romano. But it's quite early, and the market can be crowded."
"I don't mind. I'd enjoy it."
The truth is, I'm desperate to do something real. Markets are one of my favorite things about traveling. The energy, the chaos, the way you can learn about a culture just by watching people buy food.
I find Luca in his study, reading through what looks like shipping manifests.
"Rosa's going to the market this morning," I say from the doorway. "Would it be all right if I went with her?"
He looks up, and I catch something in his expression I can't read. "You want to go grocery shopping? Why?"
"I want to see the market. Learn where everything comes from." I lean against the doorframe, trying to look casual. "Is that okay?"
"It depends." He sets down his papers and turns to study me. "Are you planning to rid the market of pickpockets today?"
“Only if they try to rob me,” I snap back. “Or Rosa.”
“Then the answer is no,” he says firmly.
I let out an exasperated sigh. “What am I expected to do here in the house all day, Luca? I can’t sit around and do nothing. I’m going stir crazy.”
“What did you do before we got married?” he asks.
Good fucking question.
“I stayed busy with volunteer work and of course helping Papa with the art business,” I lie. God, I hope he doesn’t ask me specific questions because I don’t know one damn thing about the art business. Sofia and I didn’t spend time talking about how she filled her time before I arrived.
“If I allow it, will you promise not to run off or tackle thieves?” he asks.
“I promise.” I give him a sweet, fake smile.
“Fine. Paolo will accompany you.”
"Do I really need a bodyguard to buy vegetables?"
"You need a bodyguard everywhere you go,” he reminds me. “We discussed this."
Right.
The protection I don't want from threats I'm not sure exist. But arguing about it will make him more suspicious.
"If he tags along, he has to stay back. I don't want to be under armed guard while shopping for veggies. It’s embarrassing."
Luca almost smiles. "I'll tell him to be subtle."
I roll my eyes at him. “We both know how well that works out. Would you like anything special from the market?”
He glances back up at me in surprise. Or almost pleased that I asked. “Like what?”
I shrug. “You tell me.”
“Fresh figs would be nice if you can find any,” he says.
“Got it. Will you be home for dinner tonight?”
“I have a meeting. It might be late before I get back.”
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
