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Fee’s brow furrows. “Angelo, I appreciate everything you’ve done, but why are you going through all this trouble for us?”
I hold her gaze, my voice low and serious. “Fee, if Gino attacks a place I’m protecting, that’s grounds for war between the Families. I could take him out without sanction from La Familia. It’s the safest option for all of you right now.”
Fee’s eyes widen as she processes this information. After a moment, she nods. “I understand. But I’m not leaving the shop. That’s my home, and I won’t be bullied out of it.”
“Mom, no!” Lou interjects, her voice rising. “If it’s dangerous, you should come with us!”
Fee kneels down to Lou’s level. “Lucille, I need to stay. The shop is our livelihood. But you’ll be safe with Nonno Zip, okay?”
Lou’s lower lip trembles. “But what about you? Who’s going to protect you?”
I step in, placing a gentle hand on Lou’s shoulder. “I promise you, Lou, your mom will be safe. I’m going to have my best men watching over her and the shop.”
Lou looks up at me, her eyes searching mine. “You swear?”
“I swear,” I say solemnly. “On my honor.”
Lou seems to consider this for a moment before nodding reluctantly. “Okay. But you'd better keep your promise.”
Fee hugs Lou tightly. “We’ll be back together before you know it.”
I can’t help but feel a mix of admiration for Fee’s strength and a fierce protectiveness as I watch mother and daughter say their goodbyes. Zip leads Lou away, then I turn back to Fee.
“Are you sure about this?” I ask.
Fee nods, her eyes determined. “I am. I won’t let Gino drive me from my home.”
I take her hand, squeezing it gently as I open the car door for Fee. “Then I’ll make sure you’re safe there.”
As Marco pulls up to Perfezione, the street is quiet, the shop’s façade bathed in the soft glow of streetlights. I watch as Fee gathers her things, her movements slow, almost hesitant. She steps out of the car, then turns back, her eyes meeting mine through the open door.
“Angelo,” she says, her voice soft but clear in the night air, “would you like to come up?”
The question hangs between us, loaded with unspoken implications. I can see the vulnerability in her eyes, mixed with something else—hope, perhaps. Or desire.
For a moment, I’m frozen, weighing the consequences. This is a line, I know. Once crossed, there’s no going back. Everything could change.
But as I look at Fee, backlit by the shop’s sign, her eyes questioning and inviting, I realize I’ve already made my decision. I made it the moment I stepped into her shop this morning.
“Absolutely,” I say, my voice low and certain.
3
SOFIA
Did he really say yes?
I fumble with the keys, my hands shaking slightly as I unlock the door to my apartment above Perfezione. I’m acutely aware of Angelo’s presence behind me as I push the door open, his cologne a subtle but intoxicating scent in the cramped stairwell.
“Come in,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady as we step inside.
The apartment is small, barely 600 square feet. The main room serves as living room, dining room, and my bedroom all in one. The pull-out couch where I sleep is still folded out from this morning, sheets rumpled. Lou’s room, formerly the master bedroom, is off to the side, her door plastered with colorful stickers and drawings.
The kitchenette is tucked into one corner, dishes from breakfast still in the sink. My face burns. Shit, I should have taken care of that this morning.
Everywhere, there are signs of our life—Lou’s lunch box tossed on a chair, my sewing kit open on the coffee table, books and magazines scattered about.
I watch Angelo’s face nervously as he takes it all in. What must he think of this tiny, cluttered space? A man like him, used to luxury and grandeur, surely finds it pitiful.
