Bianca’s expression changed.
Only slightly.
“Palermo is smaller than people pretend.”
Before I could ask more, a young woman swept forward and embraced Niko.
She was perhaps twenty-six, with dark curls, bright eyes, and none of his restraint.
“You actually did it,” she said.
Niko endured the embrace with the patience of someone familiar with being ignored.
“Eveina, this is my sister, Livia.”
Livia took both my hands.
“I’m sorry.”
Niko looked at her.
“For what?”
“For the reception. For the photographers. For the fact that no one asked whether she wanted six hundred white roses.”
“I chose the roses,” Bianca said.
Livia glanced at the arrangements.
“Then I apologize only for the photographers.”
Despite myself, I smiled.
Livia noticed.
“There. She can smile. Niko said you always looked bored in photographs.”
“I said no such thing.”
“You said she looked as though every room disappointed her.”
“That is not the same thing.”
