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Angelo throws his arm around Damiano’s shoulder and steers him toward the area where a bar has been set up.
Leaning down, I murmur near Eden’s ear, “Don’t mind him. He’s always like a bear with a sore tooth.”
“Okay.”
“Yeah,” Samantha agrees. “He’s all growl but no bite.”
Unless you piss him off.
For the next thirty minutes, I greet some of the important guests with Eden on my arm, and by the time we head into the auditorium to take our seats, she lets out a breath of relief.
“Did I do okay?” she asks as I gesture for her to sit.
“Yes. You were perfect,” I compliment her, and unbuttoning my jacket, I take the seat beside her.
On my other side, Renzo fakes a yawn. “Wake me up when the show’s over.”
I elbow him in the side. “Fall asleep, and I’ll punch you.”
The lights dim, and a spotlight focuses on the stage.
As the show starts, I take hold of Eden’s hand and places it on my thigh. Brushing my thumb over her soft skin, I watch as the past year’s hard work pays off.
Chapter 21
Eden
During an intense scene where the ballerinas are twirling and flying through the air, my phone starts to ring.
“Shit,” I whisper. Grabbing my handbag, I dig the device out so I can silence it, but when I see Tyrone’s name on the screen, I answer and say, “Give me a minute.”
I give Dario an apologetic look before I get up and quickly leave the auditorium.
The music is still loud as I walk down a hallway, and holding the phone to my ear, I say, “What’s up?”
“Yo- need t-.”
“Hold on, the reception is bad,” I mutter, hoping he can hear me.
The call is disconnected, and once I reach the lobby and make sure all the reporters are gone, I dial Tyrone’s number while stepping out on the sidewalk.
“Hey, can you hear me?” his voice comes clearer over the line.
“Yeah. Why are you calling?”
Jesus, it’s cold. I should’ve brought my coat.
“Shit went down. Men came looking for you and Mandy, and when Junior confronted them, the fuckers shot him.”
“What?” I gasp as shock vibrates through me.
“Don’t come home tonight. Go to Dario’s place. Frankie said he’d take care of shit here.”
“Is Junior okay?” I ask. I might not like the gangster, but hearing he got shot because of Mandy sucks.
“They rushed him to the hospital. I don’t know how he’s doing,” Tyrone says, his voice tense. “You need to be careful. I’m going to check Mandy’s usual hangouts.”
“No!” I exclaim. “Stay away from her. I don’t–”
