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“I mean that a reputation can be a hindrance…or a help.” We order some food for appearances, but mostly stick to sipping our waters as Lyssa begins to strategically question our servers, her low tones holding the barest hints of threat. To their credit, none of them flinch too obviously, though I see one of them with hands shaking as he refills our glasses.
By the time our entrees have been cleared, one visibly-rattled waiter has reluctantly admitted that Grandmother was here about a week ago, and met with someone. But he claims not to know who she spoke with.
Lyssa eyes him coolly. “Send over the maître d’.”
“Ma’am, if there’s anything I’ve done to offend?—”
“Send him over.”
The maître d’ hurries over as soon as he’s alerted to Lyssa’s summons. The poor man looks like he’s aged ten years in the span of our dinner so far, sweat beading on his brow as he approaches our table.
“I-is there something else I can get for you, madam?” he asks, stammering slightly.
“Yeah. The truth,” Lyssa growls, low and dangerous. “Tell me who Grandmother met here, and you’ll be allowed to finish out your night in peace. Deny me, and…” she lets the threat hang in the air, ominous and unspoken.
“Madam, you must know our reputation here?—”
“And you must know mine,” she breaks in. “You must know that I’m no mafioso, bound to old-fashioned codes of honor. I’m the Wolf. And if you don’t tell me what I want to know…” She smiles, and even I feel my heart rate pick up. “Then I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your fucking house down.”
The maître d’s eyes go wide. After what seems like an eternity, he finally leans in and whispers into Lyssa’s ear.
I watch in confusion as her body goes stiff and motionless beside me as the maître d’ practically sprints away from the table.
“Lyssa?” I prompt, a tendril of fear curling through me. “What is it? Who did he say?” When she doesn’t respond right away, I reach out and grasp her hand firmly, giving it a squeeze. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”
Lyssa finally turns to meet my gaze, her expression grave and heavy. “Zepp Imperioli,” she says, voice hollow. “Hadria’s father. Grandmother met with Hadria’s fucking father.”
The name means almost nothing to me—I know there was some scuffle between Hadria and the Imperiolis, but just like Valentino’s, the intricacies of organized crime in Chicago have not been something I looked into much. But I can see it’s bad news. I’m just not sure why. I squeeze her hand again, reassuring.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Then what do we do with this information?”
Lyssa’s eyes are hard. “There’s only one thing I can do, Scar. I need to let Hadria know. Immediately.”
I can feel my face going pale. “But?—”
Her fingers tighten almost painfully around mine as she holds my gaze. “I know what I just said to that guy, Scar—that I’m not interested in honor. But it wasn’t…”
“It wasn’t true,” I finish for her.
“She’s my sister,” Lyssa says simply. “And she needs to know, even if she’s real fucking mad at me right now.” Her brows pull together, and somehow her voice becomes even more intense. “And I need you to promise me something, Scarlett. If things go south with Hadria...if she decides my betrayal is too much...I need you to run. Get the fuck out of Chicago and don’t look back. Will you do that for me?”
The plea in her voice tears at my heart. There’s so much left up in the air between us, so much unresolved. But she needs to hear me agree with her right now, so that she can concentrate on what she needs to do.
So I lift her hand to my lips, brushing a soft kiss over her knuckles as I meet her stare steadily. “I promise,” I murmur against her skin. “Will you go to Elysium?”
“No,” she says grimly. “Ironically, Valentino’s is the best place for this little conversation. She’ll think twice before trying to kill me here, for one thing. And for another, she might want to put the squeeze on the staff herself.”
“Then I’ll stay and?—”
“No,” she says. “No, Scar. You need to go.”
CHAPTER 23
Lyssa
I make Scarlett leave Valentino’s, ignoring all her protests. “Wait for me at the motel where we hooked up that one time,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you there later. Take the cab, and I’ll be there with you in a few hours.”
She still hesitates, hazel eyes searching mine. I know she’s worried, afraid of what might happen. But there’s something else in her gaze too, something that makes my heart ache.
