Laced With Secrets: A MM Non-Shifter Omegaverse Mpreg Cozy Mystery Age Gap Romance by CB Wren

Author:CB Wren [Wren, CB]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CB Wren
Published: 2025-12-24T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Bella Vista occupied a corner building that had been gorgeously restored—one of the few buildings that had escaped demolition during the zoning for Downtown Millcrest. The restaurant’s facade was all exposed brick and arched windows. Inside, terracotta tiles stretched across the floor beneath our feet while hand-painted murals of Tuscan hillsides adorned the walls. Soft lighting made everything look warm and inviting. The lunch crowd was substantial but not overwhelming, the murmur of conversation mixing with classic Italian music playing softly overhead.

The hostess—a woman in her fifties with kind brown eyes and an elegant black dress—greeted us with a warm smile and a slight Italian accent. “Welcome to Bella Vista. Two for lunch?”

“Please,” I said.

She led us to a table near the window, handed us leather-bound menus, and promised our server would be right with us. The dining area was even more beautiful than I’d expected—white tablecloths, fresh flowers on every table, artwork that looked original and expensive.

“This place is gorgeous,” Penny whispered once we were alone.

“Vicente has good taste,” I agreed, opening my menu even though I already knew what I wanted.

Our server arrived moments later—a young man with an efficient smile and what looked like genuine enthusiasm for his job. “Good afternoon! Can I start you with drinks?”

“Sparkling water with lemon,” I said. “And I’d like the puttanesca, please. With extra olives and capers.”

“Excellent choice. And for you, sir?”

“Carbonara,” Penny said. “And sparkling water as well.”

The server made notes and left. Penny leaned forward. “Okay, we’re here. We’re eating at a mobster’s restaurant. Let’s just have a nice meal and then⁠—”

He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes fixing on something across the restaurant. All the color drained from his face.

“Penny?”

“I think that’s Vicente Antonelli,” he whispered.

My skin prickled immediately. I turned carefully, trying not to be obvious.

An older man sat alone at a corner table near the far window, reading what looked like an Italian newspaper over espresso. Late eighties at least, with silver hair combed back in that old-fashioned style that somehow looked distinguished rather than dated. He wore dark slacks, a crisp dove-gray shirt, and a navy cardigan that was probably made of expensive cashmere. Gold-rimmed reading glasses perched on his nose. Simple watch, perfectly shined shoes.

He looked like someone’s beloved grandfather. The kind who would slip you extra money and tell you not to tell your mother.

Not like a feared mob boss at all.

“Are you sure?” I asked quietly.

“I believe so,” Penny said, clutching his fancy cloth napkin until his knuckles whitened. “Mrs. Henderson pointed him out once at the farmer’s market. Yep, that’s definitely him.”

I studied Vicente more carefully. Several staff members hovered nearby—not obviously protective, but clearly attentive. The deference in their body language was unmistakable.

“I need to talk to him,” I heard myself say.

“No!” Penny gasped, grabbing my arm. “What happened to stepping back?”

“It’s just a conversation. Public place.” I stood before I could talk myself out of it. “We’re just asking about Thomas for the memorial service. It’s expected, really. They did work together.

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