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“You have the steak,” Ma yells from the living room. “I’m sure you like eating fancier now, anyway.”
My head tips back with eyes to the ceiling. Dad comes in with a warm smile. “Ignore her, Evie. She’s just jealous she had to marry a guy like me.”
“You’d be surprised that Alessandro is a lot like you.”
“Don’t get attached, Evelyn,” Dad warns solemnly. “This treaty, this marriage. It’s not permanent. It’s only until we get our territory back in order, and then it’s back to business.”
I don’t want to think about it. A week ago, I wouldn’t even question it as I just do as I’m told. Now, being out of this house and living with Alessandro, it makes me want to experience the world on my own for a bit. Even though I have no intention of letting Alessandro go, I want a life that belongs to me, where no one else is making decisions for me.
As we sit down to dinner, it’s all I can think about. What comes next for me? The kids devour every bite of their food and ask for more. It warms my heart knowing that cooking is something I’m great at. They want more of me. I stand out as the best in the family at something, and it has nothing to do with my father’s criminal enterprise.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I spot the look of terror in my father’s eyes too late. Turning to look over my shoulder, Jenkins is being led into the kitchen, hands in the air. The man standing behind him is a face I didn’t think I’d ever see again.
Peter Martin is sporting a glowing tan and a well-tailored suit when he pushes Jenkins away from him. His black hair’s slicked back and he’s wearing a silk shirt like he’s returning from a vacation.
“You’re off your game, Jinx.” Peter laughs. His gaze pans the table and stops at his children. “Is this the way you greet your dad? Get over here, guys, come give me a hug!”
“What’s with the pistol, Peter?” Dad asks. I look around the table, and the four most important people in his life are a bullet away from being hurt.
My pulse skyrockets, and I turn to face the macchia di merda I call a brother-in-law.
“Yeah, what the fuck do you want?” The question comes out with more of a snarl than I intended.
Peter smiles, gun in his left hand and the kids gathered under his right arm. “These two are it. I’m here to get my kids, and none of you goombahs are going to do shit about it.”
17
ALESSANDRO
The sun shines bright, and the sun setting over Manhattan lets me feel the warmth of the city with a bounce in my step. There’s not a problem I can’t solve or a person in my way. For the first time in my adult life, I see a path to my future with someone I want beside me.
Memories of my father and mother bloom like a door in the vault of my darkness has opened. Sunday mornings as she cooks and he’s handling business, he’d bring her flowers and dance around the kitchen. She’d entertain him for a moment before kicking him out to finish cooking.
“So, 168 hours is all it takes?” Lorenzo asks from the driver’s seat.
“Ren, I am in deep. Don’t tell anybody.”
He laughs loudly. “Don’t tell anybody? Have you seen you? You’re beaming like a fucking leprechaun with his pot of gold. I even think the scar on your face is lighter. She makes you human in some ways, but a monster in others. Been a long time since the Butcher came out. Word’s spreading, you know.”
“What kind of words?” I ask him. He’s been out of sight the past twelve hours, and whenever he’s gone, Lorenzo always comes back with something. Information, money, or bodies... no matter what, he makes good use of his time.
“You sliced that kid up and hung him like jerky in Oz’s smokehouse. There’s also word the Montegna wants you to take over his law firm.”
I shake my head. “People love to talk shit. Whatever happened to that guy after Oz finished with him has nothing to do with me.”
The sound of my phone ringing steals my focus, and seeing Oz’s phone number irritates me, but I answer the call anyway. “Yeah?”
“You got time for dinner with your Zio?” he asks.
“Where?”
“Same as last week.”
“When?”
“Whenever you’re free, Alessandro. I’ll be here until ten.”
“On my way,” I tell him and hang up. “Donofrio’s, Ren.”
