“One more thing,” Harrison adds as he looks down at his phone. “Lucian Morelli wants a call from you.”
I nod slowly, carefully considering what that means and why. “I’ll call tomorrow. I’m not going to rush to his beck and call.”
“We don’t want the Morellis as enemies,” Harrison reminds.
Ignoring the last statement, I say with a clap of my hands, “All right, if we have everything we need to get started, I plan on taking Lyriope to Florence for pizza.”
She looks at me, her eyes lighting up and face morphing to one belonging to a little girl excited on Christmas morning. “Florence? Really?”
I nod, ignoring the scowl that Harrison is giving me.
“People know you’re in Italy now,” Harrison reminds me.
“I know. But Florence is large enough and flooded with tourists. I think that Sasha Morelli and I will blend in just fine.”
“I disagree.” Harrison, always my voice of reason and extreme caution.
“Would you like us to follow you?” Martha asks. “From a distance of course.”
I stand from the table, pull out Lyriope’s chair and assist her to standing, and shake my head. “I think I can handle taking Lyriope to have the best pizza of her life in a favorite city of mine.” I give both of them a smile. “But I appreciate the concern, and I’m just a phone call away.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Lyriope says, although I can see how excited she is.
“Oh but I do. Trust me. Pizza in the shadow of the Duomo… a bucket list item.”