“Oh…”
“I’d order a piece of pizza right now, but I don’t have the money to pay for it.”
His smile gets wider as though he can’t believe his good luck. “Don’t worry—first slice is on the house. My treat.”
“Are you serious?” I gasp, speaking a little louder to cover the fact that my stomach is growling furiously. “Thank you so much, uh…?”
“The name’s Luigi.”
“Luigi,” I say, giving him my best smile.
“I’ve got a slice of capricciosa ready—”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, a little too abruptly.
He plates up a large slice and sets it down in front of me with a glass of water. It’s all I can do not to grab the slice and scarf it down in one go. I manage to contain myself, but the moment his back is turned, I wolf down a huge piece.
When he turns, his eyes go wide. “Whoa. Someone’s hungry.”
“Or the pizza’s just that good.”
“I can get you another slice if you want.”
“On the house?” I can’t help but say.
His smile dips just a little. “For a pretty girl like you—sure, why not?”
I’m finished with the first slice and licking my fingers before the second one arrives. My act is wearing a little thin now that the edge has been taken off my hunger.
“You never told me your name,” he points out, popping in a raw pizza into the oven directly in front of me.
“Renata,” I mumble.
“That’s a pretty name.”
“It’s a family name,” I say, offering up more information without even stopping to consider if that’s wise. “My grandmother’s name was Renata. And so was her mother’s.” My only excuse is that my ordeal has blunted my common sense by a lot.
“Is that right?” comes a new voice.
I freeze as an older man strolls up next to Luigi from a hidden door off to the side. He’s clearly been listening in on our conversation, because he’s eyeing me with interest.
“Uh… yeah,” I say. “It is.”
“And what did you say your last name was, dear?” he asks. He is nothing like patchy-faced Luigi, with his innocent smile and clueless eyes. This man gives off an aura of authority.
And not the good kind.
“I didn’t,” I reply. “It’s, uh… Belasco.”
“Is it?” he says with a nod that I don’t like one bit.
I put down the slightly burnt crust of my second slice of pizza. I’m still hungry, but I can afford to ignore it now. “Y’know, I actually should go and wait outside,” I say, avoiding Luigi’s eyes. “My brother should be here any moment. To, uh, pick me up.”
The older man walks around the counter and stands right in front of me, blocking my way out. “Your brother’s not coming to pick you up,” he tells me flatly.
“I… Of course he is…”
“Cut the shit,” he says with a sinister smile. Then he leans in to whisper in my ear, “I know exactly who you are, Renata Lombardi.”