Pulling my neck straight, I felt my blood warm. Not only wasn’t Dario home, nor had I heard from him, but dinner was obviously served at least an hour ago with no concern for my attendance. I was upstairs. How hard would it have been for Contessa to come up and tell me dinner was ready?

Steeling my resolve, I took the plate, the one from the seat not at the head of the table, into the kitchen. Thankfully, this kitchen didn’t have faux cabinets over all the ...