Giovanni held the phone to his ear, eyes scanning the entrance gates. "I'm at the main gates. Where are you?"
Her voice crackled on the other end, breathless and rushed. "Close. I'm close. I can see the bakery—wait—nope, wrong one. Just keep standing there, I'm almost—" she paused, panting audibly.
"Okay, slow down. You don't have to run."
"Shh. I'm multitasking."
He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're going to pass out."
"No faith in me, Rossi," she panted. "Okay—wait, I have an idea."
"Not interested," he said almost immediately.
"Oh, come on. Just close your eyes and count down from ten."
"Still not interested."
"Oh well," she said, her voice dropping into a dramatic, wounded sigh. "It's fine. Just… never mind."
Giovanni sucked in air through his teeth. "Alright, fine."
"Yay."
He shut his eyes and began counting. "Ten… nine…"
The city sounds faded around him as he continued counting. Somewhere at four, the air shifted—familiar and warm. He didn't need to open his eyes to know she was right in front of him.
"…three… two… one."
His eyes opened.
Salomé stood there, grinning up at him—cheeks flushed, strands of hair stuck to her face, breath still catching in her chest.
"Tada," she said breathlessly, hands raised like she'd just pulled off a magic trick.
Giovanni stared at her, then chuckled softly. "You're insane."
"And punctual," she said, falling into step beside him as he turned to walk. She gave a little hop, matching his stride.
They boarded a taxi and slid into the back seat. Giovanni gave the driver the address, and the car pulled away.
"Wake me when we get there," Salomé murmured, leaning back with her eyes already closed.
He gave her a side glance and smiled quietly. "Okay."
Nearly an hour later, the taxi slowed into the parking lot of a cozy bistro tucked away on a quiet street corner. The windows glowed warmly, flickering with the shadows of people inside.
Giovanni looked over at Salomé, sleeping peacefully beside him, and hesitated, not wanting to wake her.
He nudged her shoulder gently. "Hey, we're here."
Her eyes fluttered open as she blinked against the soft glow from the streetlights.
"That was quick," she said, stretching and letting out a lazy yawn.
Not exactly ladylike, but it made Giovanni smile.
They stepped out of the car, and Salomé paused, brushing sweat-damp strands of hair from her forehead. "Do I look okay?"
"You look good."
She raised a brow. "Just good?"
Giovanni held the door open and gestured for her to go in first. "After you."
She gave him a look, and just as she passed, he leaned in slightly, his voice low and meant only for her. "You look perfect."
She faltered for just a second, pausing mid-stride. The grin that tugged at her lips was small and involuntary.
But she tried to play it cool, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear and walking ahead without looking back.
"You can't just say things like that." She muttered it under her breath, more to herself than to him.
Giovanni smirked, following her in.
The restaurant was cozy, filled with the scent of meat, gentle hum of ambient music and clinking cutlery and glass.
Salomé's eyes softened when she spotted her father seated a table with Marco.
"There she is," Dominic said warmly, rising to pull her into a tight hug.
"Hi Daddy," she murmured into his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him.
Across the table, Giovanni and Marco exchanged a nod and a firm pat on the back—less demonstrative, but just as familiar.
Dominic stepped back to take a proper look at her, his eyes sweeping over her frame. "You've filled out a bit. Italy's doing more for you than I expected."
Salomé glanced at Giovanni, who had slid into the seat beside Marco.
It was less Italy and more of him.
She turned back to her father with a small smile. "I guess I just adapted really well."
Then she shifted her attention to Marco, curtsying playfully. "Good to see you, Uncle Marco."
The man's face lit up. "Is it me, or do you just look more beautiful?"
Salomé laughed, cheeks warm. "I couldn't help myself."
She sat in the chair beside her father, smoothing her dress as she got comfortable. "I figured I had to level it up a bit. A little upgrade was bound to happen."
Dominic reached for the water pitcher and poured her a glass, chuckling. "Clearly. But it's more than I can take in all at once."
Giovanni leaned back slightly in his chair, a small smile tugging at his lips as he watched the exchange.
Marco leaned forward, resting his hands on the table. "Good thing we'll be around a while. Gives us time to adjust. I'd bet my fortune the boys have begun lining up already. Dominic, we might need backup at this point."
Salomé sipped her water, feigning innocence. "Good thing I'm already surrounded by watchmen."
"Exactly," Dominic said, tapping the table. "One wrong move and they'll have me, Marco, and even Giovanni to answer to."
"Poor Giovanni," she said with mock sympathy, casting him another subtle glance. "Roped into the security detail without even knowing."
Giovanni shrugged. "I don't mind."
Her eyes met his for a moment—long enough for something quiet to pass between them—before she turned back to the table with a small, content smile.