I gaped at him, and he frowned. “Is that not enough? You have ten thousand in your account, but if you need more—”
I shook my head, aghast. “Matteo, I wanted twenty dollars and some money for groceries.”
He chuckled and came to me, sliding the money and cards into my wallet. “That is not your life anymore. Buy what you think we need and, most importantly, anything you want.”
I looked at my fat wallet. “Is there anything you want?”
“I want you home and safe.” He grinned. “And perhaps some cookies, if you have time later.”
“I already planned on that.”
His kiss was long and possessive. “Good, my wife. That is good.”
The drive was silent, the area unfamiliar. Once we left the large estate, I lost track of the turns, but I was surprised when we pulled onto a major road in a short time period.
“I thought we were right in the country.”
Marcus kept his eyes on the road. “No, we’re not far from all the suburban necessities, but far enough away it feels open. Mr. Campari owns a lot of land around your home. He, ah, likes the privacy.”
Coming as I did from Alberta, a lot of the stores were unfamiliar to me, but I recognized the name of the grocery chain Marcus drove us to. Eager to do something normal, I flung open the door and began to walk as soon as he’d stopped the car. He made a sound of distress, catching up with me and touching my elbow.
“Mrs. Campari, it is my job to keep you safe. Please remain in the car until I have assessed the situation and opened the door for you. Mr. Campari wants me at your side at all times.”
“Assessed the situation? Do you think someone is going to grab me in the grocery store parking lot?” I asked, teasing.
His face darkened, and all he said was one word. “Please.”
I sobered and nodded, slowing my pace. I had to remind myself I was living a different life now.
In the store, we were quiet as I perused the aisles. As I looked at the packages of pasta, Marcus shook his head. “Mr. Campari prefers homemade pasta.”
Surprised by his words, I smiled. “I don’t know how to make fresh pasta.”
“I can show you. Mrs. Armstrong has the pasta maker. I taught her as well.”
“Okay. I’d like that.”
“I didn’t mean to frighten you earlier, Mrs. Campari. I’m following orders, and I know how much…” He paused. “I know how important it is to Mr. Campari.”
“I understand. May I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you call my husband Mr. Campari to his face?”
“No.”
“Then call me Evie. Please.”
He hesitated, then offered me a smile. He was a good-looking man—a few years older than Matteo, I judged. Dark hair and eyes, he could be related to him. He was broader than Matteo and a few inches taller and muscular. His expression was serious, but if you looked closely enough, his eyes held a softness within their dark depths.
“Evie, then. I would be happy to show you how to make pasta.”
“I would enjoy that. Thank you, Marcus.” I beamed up at him.
He returned my smile. “Mr. Campari, ah, Matteo, doesn’t like nuts in his cookies.” He paused. “Neither do I.”
“That makes three of us.”
“Okay.”
The rest of the shopping excursion, he pointed out Matteo’s favorites, and we discussed recipes. He told me his parents had owned a restaurant and he’d practically grown up in the kitchen. After we loaded the car, he opened the door, and I slipped into the passenger seat.
“Could we go to the mall?”
He paused. “Matteo said the store, then home.”
“I need a few personal things. Maybe you could call him?”
“Is it important?”
“To me, yes.”
“To the mall, then. But I ask you stay close and be as quick as possible.”
“I can do that.”
“Thank you, Mrs.—”
I lifted my eyebrow. “We established this, Marcus. Evie. My name is Evie.”
He studied me for a moment, then smiled.
“Okay, Evie. To the mall.”
Chapter Ten
Evie
I made Matteo and Marcus each a sandwich when I got home and sent them to the office with Marcus, waving off his offer to help me unpack the groceries. I had hoped Matteo would bring his plate and come eat in the kitchen, but I knew he was busy since it was his first day back after our honeymoon.
It seemed odd to miss someone who was just down the hall, yet I did.
I was still unpacking the groceries when Alex came in, smiling and carrying a file box.
“Hello, Evie.”
“Um, hello.”
I watched, horrified, as he took the laptop on the desk, disconnecting it and packing it away.
“I only used it the one time,” I protested. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
He frowned and shook his head. “Of course you didn’t. Matteo asked me to bring a newer, faster machine and a little printer for you.” He held up an iPad, and in minutes, he had the printer attached and checked to make sure everything worked. “I set up an email account for you and transferred all your recipes to your new account on the site you were using earlier.”