“A vanilla-vanilla cake won’t be it,” I mumbled around my fork. It had to be the best cake I’d ever tasted.
“That little moan would suggest otherwise.” Luca grinned.
“I mean, it’s still cake. I’m going to enjoy it.”
We made it through our vanilla flight, and then Frankie popped into the bakery. “Boss, I need you outside.”
Luca and Marco stood and left us without a word.
“I wonder what that could be about.” Mom sat wide-eyed as she watched my fiancé leave. “Is everything alright?”
“Probably.” I grabbed the last bite on Luca’s plate.
A tray of chocolate samples came out, and I was in heaven. Raspberry coulis, strawberries, and a decadent chocolate ganache made deciding on a flavor or two nearly impossible.
“Should we wait for Luca?” My mom glanced at the door.
“Nope. I doubt he’s coming back.” I smiled at her, and she shook her head. Luca’s disappearing act didn’t line up with Mom’s perfect image of her future son-in-law.
“So, what do we think?” Paul clapped his hands as he sat in Luca’s empty chair.
The door chimed, and Frankie rushed inside. “It’s time to go.”
“I’m sorry. We’re almost done.” My mom stuttered out.
Rosa collected her things and headed toward the door, where Marco waited. “Come on, Maggie. We’ll reschedule the rest of the visits for another day.”
“Do you want me to box up the extras?” Paul asked, his forehead scrunched.
“No, thank you.” I put on my coat, breathing a sigh of relief when Ashley did the same. “I’ll call you with our final decisions.”
“Sounds good.”
Frankie ushered Ashley and me into the car and drove off, speeding down the narrow streets.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re taking precautions.”
“And what the hell does that mean?” I huffed, pulling on my seatbelt to get some breathing room.
Frankie stayed quiet, and I, for the millionth time, understood why Luca put him with me—the guy gave nothing away.
“Are we safe?” Ashley’s eyes widened, and her hands twisted together in her lap.
“You’re safe,” Frankie said, his eyes never leaving the road.
Ashley fell into my side as Frankie took a quick turn. “It feels like we’re in a getaway car.”
We flew past dumpsters and back doors with no other cars in view. I held onto the door as the car jerked around another corner. Another five minutes of his stunt driving, and there’d be cake-flavored vomit all over his expensive upholstery.
“Here.” Frankie parked in the spot closest to the door, and we got out on wobbly legs. A few dark SUVs were parked along the curb—the Moretti line of defense.
I let him lead us into the building, but once Ashley was in her office, and I had him in mine with the door closed, I asked, “What the hell was that?”
“A complication.” He shrugged and sat on the couch.
When he took his phone out and started tapping away, I picked up a pillow and chucked it at his head. Frankie glared at me and set his phone down on the cushion next to him.