Vendetta(12)

“Were you running away from me?”

I shook my head too hard, making my cheeks jiggle. “Nope, definitely not.”

“Oh, really?” he pressed, smiling broadly this time. It rearranged his face beautifully, raising his brows and softening his jaw.

“I prefer to think of it as casual hobbling.”

He pulled back from me and, slowly, I became aware of the rest of the world again. “I’d call it frantic sprinting.”

“Semantics.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said. “I’m Nic, by the way, and this is my brother, Luca.”

Even though I was standing between the brothers, I had barely registered Luca. He had stopped studying his menu and was resting his interlocking fingers on top of it. I offered him a smile. “Welcome to Gracewell’s.”

“That was boring for me,” Luca replied. His voice was sharp with impatience, and scratchy, too, as though he had a sore throat. “But it’s nice to know you’re planning on being somewhat professional this evening, Sophie.”

I blanched. How rude was this guy?

He gestured back and forth with his index finger, first at Nic, and then at me, like our conversation was his business, too. “Are you ready to focus now, Nicoli?”

Nicoli. His full name suited him. It was beautiful.

Nic shifted in his seat so that he was closer to me, and the two of us were side by side, facing his brother. “Chill out, Luca.”

Luca’s eyebrows climbed. “My brother, l’ipocrita.”

Nic swatted his hand in Luca’s direction. “Stai zitto!”

“Have you worked here long, Sophie?” Luca cut to me again. He dragged a hand through his hair, settling the unruly black strands away from his face and behind his ears. I found myself entranced by his bright blue eyes, now that I could really see them. They were searing, and seemed to shine unnaturally from his tanned face. Is he the boy from the window? I wondered. No, he was too hard, too unyielding. It wasn’t him. I was almost sure of it.

“Well?” he pressed.

“Luca,” Nic rumbled. “Can you not do this — ”

“Let her answer.”

“No, I haven’t worked here for long,” I replied quickly, hoping it would ease whatever tension was mounting between them. Maybe they’d just had an argument before I turned up. Or maybe Luca didn’t get out much and this was his idea of socializing. “It’s just a stupid summer job.”

I felt guilty lying about the diner’s role in my life and my future, but suddenly I couldn’t stand the thought of them thinking I was as ordinary as I was; that my life was bound to a place that hadn’t been redecorated in nearly twenty years, a place owned by an incarcerated man, a place where nothing exciting ever happened to anyone.

Nic pulled his arms from the table and folded them. He kept his narrowed gaze on Luca, like he was almost daring him to do something.

“Do you like it?” Luca appeared unaffected by the death stare.

I shrugged. “As much as anyone can, I guess.”

“And what about your coworkers? Do you like them?”

“Smettila!” Nic hissed, his accent flipping effortlessly again.

“Does it matter if I like them?”

“You tell me,” said Luca.

“Yes, they’re nice, mostly,” I returned evenly. “Why? Are you doing a police survey or something?”

For the first time since our rocky introduction, Luca smiled at me, revealing sharp teeth and pronounced cheekbones.

“Sophie,” Nic murmured. “Don’t worry about my brother. As you can see, he’s completely socially inept.”

The softness in his voice settled me, and I let myself be charmed by him, if only for a second, before leaving them with their menus.

“Look at those fine specimens!” whooped Ursula when I returned to the counter. “So these boys are the new Priestlys?”

I nodded subtly. Across the way, Nic and Luca were enthralled in another conversation. They were in their own beautiful little world again. And Ursula and I were on a planet beside that world, stalking them unashamedly.

“Is your shadow crush the black-haired one?” she teased.

“No, the other one.”

Suddenly he turned his head a fraction, like he could hear us. I held my breath — without knowing why — and squeezed Ursula’s arm, but she didn’t notice because she was too busy trying not to drool. And then he was engrossed again. It was as though he’d needed a breather from the intensity of his discussion; now that he had taken it, he was back in. And so was Luca. Their mouths sped up and their gestures became more expressive.

“It’s hard to look away,” Ursula teased, undeterred by the mounting anger in their conversation. “And just look at those eyes. Where are they from?”