Chapter 25: Shadows in the Rain

The storm outside was in full force by evening, rain slashing against the windows in silvery sheets. Arianna stayed behind to help Luca close up, but her eyes kept darting to the pocket of his apron, where the mysterious cream-colored envelope still rested.

She tried to focus on wiping tables, stacking chairs, and sweeping the floor, but her mind kept circling back to that flicker in his expression the one that said whatever was in that letter was far from “nothing important.”

Luca moved around the kitchen with his usual precision, but tonight there was a subtle tension in his movements, like a string wound too tightly. Finally, unable to bear it anymore, Arianna approached him as he was locking the stockroom.

“Luca,” she said, her voice gentle but firm, “if something’s wrong, I need to know. Don’t shut me out.”

He hesitated, meeting her eyes. For a moment, it seemed like he might tell her. But then he smiled not his warm, genuine smile, but the polite one he used on strangers — and brushed her cheek with his hand.

“It’s nothing you need to worry about, cara mia.”

The words stung more than she wanted to admit.

They finished closing in silence, the air between them thick with unspoken questions. Just as Luca reached for his coat, the bell over the door chimed. They both turned.

Standing in the doorway, framed by the rain and the glow of the streetlamp, was a tall, striking woman with glossy dark hair and an umbrella in hand. Her red coat clung to her like a second skin, and her smile— slow, knowing— was aimed directly at Luca.

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Luca?” she asked, her voice smooth as silk.

Arianna’s fingers tightened around the dish towel she was holding. She didn’t know who this woman was, but something in the way Luca’s expression shifted — surprise, guardedness, and something else she couldn’t name — told her this visitor wasn’t just a customer.

For a moment, the only sounds in the café were the rain and the ticking of the wall clock. Luca’s hand tightened on his coat, his knuckles pale.

“Isabella,” he said finally, his voice low, as if the name itself carried weight.

Arianna’s stomach twisted. Isabella. The name was elegant, effortless and clearly important.

The woman’s smile widened. “It’s been a long time, Luca. You didn’t return my calls. I thought I’d surprise you.” She stepped forward, closing her umbrella, droplets beading on her coat.

Arianna instinctively took a step back, unsure if she should stay or give them privacy. But Luca’s eyes flicked to her, sharp and almost pleading, as if he didn’t want her to leave.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Luca said, his tone cool but polite. “And this isn’t a good time.”

Isabella arched an eyebrow. “It’s never a good time with you, is it? Always too busy. Always hiding in your kitchen.” Her gaze slid to Arianna. “And who’s this? The new sous-chef… or something more?”

Heat rose to Arianna’s cheeks, but she lifted her chin. “I’m Arianna. And I work here.”

“Of course you do,” Isabella said, her tone laced with amusement. She turned back to Luca. “We need to talk. Alone.”

Luca’s jaw tightened. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it here.”

A slow, deliberate smile curved Isabella’s lips. “Very well. Your father’s company is in trouble. Big trouble. And if you want to save it, you’ll need me.”

Arianna froze. This was no casual drop-in. Isabella wasn’t just someone from Luca’s past  she was tied to something much bigger.

Luca set his coat aside, his expression unreadable. “You have five minutes. Then you leave.”

As Isabella began to speak, Arianna realized this storm wasn’t just outside. It had walked right into their café, wearing red.