(Blue Notes 2)The Melody Thief Read Online Free PDF Page B

Cary lied. “I was already awake when he came in.”
    “Massimo,” the woman said with narrowed eyes, “go back into the living room. Let Signor Taylor sleep.” She kissed Massimo on the top of his head and sighed theatrically.
    “Yes, Mamma.” Massimo flashed Cary a bright grin as though they were now best friends, then scampered off the bed and out the door.
    “I am so sorry,” the woman said as she pushed her long brown hair from her face. “I was making breakfast, and I didn’t realize he had come in here. Massimo is just so curious.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Cary told her. “It’s fine, really.”
    “He’s a lot like his father, always curious about things.”
    “So Antonio is his father?”
    Great. Mr. Perfect has a kid. Way too complicated. His hope for a mind-blowing one-night stand was fading fast.
    “Oh, yes.” She smiled and shook her head. “They’re very much alike.” Then, as if suddenly realizing something, she clapped a hand over her mouth and said, “Oh! I’m being so rude! I didn’t even introduce myself. I’m Francesca Fratelli.”
    “Connor Taylor.” Cary’s heart did a nosedive for his stomach. Francesca wore a wedding band on her right hand in the European custom.
    No wonder he wasn’t interested.
    “So you’re Antonio’s wife?”
    She laughed, a light, musical laugh that rang about the bedroom. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “No, no. We’ve been friends since we were children—he’s like my brother.”
    The extent to which it relieved Cary to hear this surprised him. Why would you care, anyhow? You only wanted to sleep with the guy, not marry him.
    “I see” was all he said.
    “Speaking of work,” she continued, “Tonino asked me to make you some breakfast. He left for the office about an hour ago.”
    That’s right. Today is Monday, isn’t it? He really needed to call Georges and let him know about canceling the upcoming gigs.
    “That’s very kind of you.”
    “Antonio and I grew up together near Stradella, not far from here,” Francesca explained as they sat down for a breakfast comprised of a variety of fruit, cheese, and bread. “His family still lives there.”
    The apartment was quiet, for which Cary was more than grateful. Massimo was now lying on his stomach on the couch, feet up in the air, reading a book.
    “So you live in Milan?”
    “Yes. I moved here a few years ago with my partner, Marissa. I’m a painter.” She filled his coffee cup and passed him a tray of cheese and prosciutto. “I’ve had a few shows in Milan and Rome. I work at a gallery in the city.” She gestured to a painting hanging on the wall.
    “Interesting piece,” he said, noting the splashes of bright colors on the mostly dark background and the hint of a human shape they combined to create. It was a sensual, unusual work. Something he could see hanging on a wall in his own apartment. “I like it.”
    She blushed charmingly. “Thank you, signore.”
    “Please, call me Connor.”
    “Connor. Your Italian is very good,” she added as she offered him some more bread.
    “I’ve got a pretty good ear. And I love the sound of the language.”
    “I’m so sorry about what happened to you. Tonino told me about those horrible men. Does it hurt much?” she asked.
    “Just the wrist. But it’s better today. I just look worse.” He touched two fingers to his jaw.
    “So I hear you’re a waiter.”
    Cary nodded as he sipped his coffee.
    “What restaurant do you work at?”
    Cary tried not to choke. Lies were easier to stomach if you didn’t have to go into a lot of detail. They were also easier when you were drunk. “I sort of fill in at a few places.”
    He felt like a total shit now. He needed to go home.
    “Tonino left you some clothing.” She pointed to a chair by the front door. A pair of pants hung over the back, along with a neatly folded shirt and socks. “He was sorry he couldn’t stay. He’ll be back at lunch.”
    “He’s already done a lot for me.