“Why would that man get so angry because I didn’t have a coat?”

Joanna looked confused. “I have no idea. I just know it’s supercool that you attracted his attention. I’ve been around for years, since I was a little girl, and they all know my name and they know me, but they’ve never taken that kind of interest in me.”

Francesca clenched her teeth. “Why would that be?” Already knowing the answer and not liking it.

“We don’t exactly run in the same social circles. That family is total celebrity. Everyone knows them.”

That didn’t make Francesca the least bit predisposed to feeling better about Stefano Ferraro’s interest in her. “I don’t know them. I don’t want to know them.” Which wasn’t altogether true. She’d heard the name. She knew the name was associated with an international bank and a very prestigious hotel as well as a racing team.

Joanna caught her arm and tugged in the direction of the deli’s door. “Come on, it’s cold out here. Zio Pietro wants to meet you.”

“You said them. There’s more than one of him?” She knew a Ferraro drove a race car, but surely the name wasn’t that uncommon.

Joanna nodded solemnly. “And they’re all that gorgeous. I kid you not. Stefano’s the oldest. He has four brothers, equally hot. One sister, totally beautiful. When they walk around together, people just stare at them. That’s how hot they are. Each one of them is supercool as well, which makes them all scorching hot. I’m a little in love with them, including their sister. That’s how totally gorgeous they are.”

Francesca couldn’t help it. She started to laugh. She hadn’t laughed in months. It was good to see Joanna again. She was not in the least complicated, nor did she want to be. She always found humor in everything and she loved to party, go to clubs and dance the night away.

“I can’t believe Stefano Ferraro claimed you.”

The statement tumbled out, leaving Francesca feeling weak and more confused than ever. As they entered the store, all eyes turned to her. The deli was eerily silent. Color infused her face. She wanted to turn and run.

“Joanna, come behind the counter and help out while I talk to your friend,” Pietro ordered, beckoning to his niece.

Joanna squeezed Francesca’s hand. “Zio Pietro, this is my best friend, Francesca Capello.”

“Yes, yes, you talk about her all the time,” Pietro said, beaming. He waved toward the customers. “Hurry, before they take their business somewhere else. I’ll look after Francesca for you.”

He indicated for Francesca to follow him and she did, winding her way through the throng of people, back behind the counter. Once behind the counter she was up close to the smells of the food and her stomach growled again. She found herself pulling the coat closer around her like a shield, trying to hide from all the eyes staring at her. Trying to hide the fact that she was starving. She followed Pietro through a narrow hallway to the rather messy office.

Pietro waved her toward a chair. “Sit. I’ll get you an application, but that’s just because I need your information. A mere formality.”

She winced, wishing it were easy for the average person to get a new identity. She’d actually made inquiries, only to find out it would be impossible when she didn’t have money and didn’t know anyone in the criminal world—well, only one someone—so she’d remained Francesca Capello. Her fingers gripped the outside of the coat, gathering the material into her fist, holding so tight her knuckles turned white.

“Tell me how you know Stefano Ferraro. It sounded as if you just met, yet he said . . .” He trailed off, clearly looking for more information.

She looked across the desk at Pietro, her heart beginning to pound. She needed this job. She wasn’t good at lying, but . . . She didn’t know what to do, how to answer him. “I’m sorry, Mr. Masci. I never laid eyes on him before today.” There. She told the truth. She found she was trembling from head to foot. She had to get the job. She leaned toward him. “Please. I’m a really hard worker. I’ve had tons of experience. Really.” She just couldn’t put down any references. Not a single one.

Pietro sat back in his chair, frowning at her. “You’ve never laid eyes on him before today?” He repeated her denial softly. Thoughtfully. “He claimed you. He asked me to take care of you for him. Do you have any idea what that means for us? How can you not know him?”

She was getting desperate. Food had been scarce for the last few weeks. Hiding in old buildings trying to stay alive when you were being hunted could make food not a first priority. The bus trip had been long. She had to save her money to try to get a place to stay. That didn’t leave a lot for food.