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“Egg on toast,” Anna tells Diana.
That is my usual breakfast, but I’m not feeling very hungry. Once I have my coffee, I perk up enough to eat my toast. Then, feeling more awake, I head to Elio’s home office to make amends and alleviate the guilt over last night's outburst.
I knock softly, then push the door open. “Got a minute?”
Elio glances up from his desk, his expression guarded. "Lana." He nods, gesturing to the chair across from him.
I perch on the edge of the chair and inhale deeply as I prepare my statement. “I apologize for last night. I was out of line.”
Elio leans back, his face softening. “I appreciate that. I’d like?—”
I hold a hand up to stop him, knowing what he’s going to ask. “I’ll apologize to Piper, Elysse, and Matteo as well.” I glance around the room, wondering where Matteo is.
“Thank you.” He studies me. “Is there something going on that I should know about? Besides the Rinella deal.”
I shake my head, knowing he’s really asking if I’m cracking under the pressure of the extra responsibility he gave me. “Just those raids, but I suspect the Rinellas are behind it. Do you know if Detective Peter Hartley or Henry Lutz are on his payroll?” Even as I ask, I doubt Lutz is. He seems like a Boy Scout, but you never know. Maybe he has a greedy ex-wife and a brood of kids to support who require the extra income working for made men can give.
Elio shakes his head. “I don’t know, but I can see what I can learn.” He rises and comes around his desk, leaning against it. “I know you’ve been under a lot of pressure.”
"That's no excuse. I shouldn't have questioned your decisions or accused you of not caring about Lazaro. I know you do. I just…" I trail off, swallowing hard.
"You miss him," Elio finishes for me. "I get it. We all do."
I nod, blinking back tears. Dammit. Crying only makes me look weak. "I promise I'm back on track now. You can count on me."
Elio reaches over, squeezing my hand. "I know I can. Now, about the Rinellas. I’d hoped losing his boat would warn him away.”
My lips quirk up. “I knew that was you.”
“Then why are you busting my balls?” He holds his hand up. “Don’t answer that. Just know that I’m on it. What I’d like to do is appease him for backing out on marrying Ava, but if necessary, we may have to consider that bridge burned.”
It’s not ideal, but I suppose he’s right. “I’m sure you’ll figure out something.”
“What about the cops?”
“I’ve got them handled.”
“Good.”
I stand, and he gives me a quick hug. “If you ever want out…”
“And do what? Knit?” I quirk a brow.
He laughs. “Yeah. I don’t see you doing that. Get to work.”
Glad that I’ve made peace with my brother, I head downtown to our offices. Although I’m aware of the criminal side of business, my job is primarily dealing with the legitimate businesses, the hide-and-seek with our warehouses notwithstanding. Not that they’re separate. Nearly all our legit businesses have less than legal aspects such as money laundering.
"Morning, Ms. D'Amato," our receptionist chirps.
I nod, already scanning the day's agenda on my phone. "Any urgent messages, Tessa?"
"Just the usual. Oh, and the contracts for the new development project arrived."
Perfect. Just what I need to clear my head.
I settle behind my desk, spreading out the blueprints for our latest venture, a mixed-use complex that'll revitalize a struggling neighborhood. Some might find it unbelievable that Mafia activities sometimes include projects that help a community. Okay, I know. It’s all to make us look legitimate and build a good reputation. But it’s no different from any other legit corporation that builds a park or creates a foundation for the same reason.
As I pore over zoning regulations and budget projections, the weight of last night's argument with Elio starts to lift. For a few blissful hours, I'm just a savvy businesswoman, not the ice princess of Chicago's underworld. By the end of the day, I’ve smoothed out a permit issue and vetted businesses interested in opening in the area.
