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I feel my shoulders tense, but I keep my expression neutral. “That’s not relevant to business, Jimbo.”
Romero grins, making exaggerated kissing noises. “Oh, it’s relevant, alright. Boss here follows Fee around with heart eyes. It’s sickeningly sweet.”
I scowl, reaching out to swat at Romero, but Jimbo’s stern voice stops me.
“Both of you, knock it off,” he says, every bit the disapproving uncle. “Angelo, I’m asking because I care. How do you feel about Sofia?”
I hesitate, uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. But Jimbo’s patient gaze wears me down.
“I… care for her,” I admit reluctantly. “Her and Lou both. But it’s not love. It can’t be.”
Romero raises an eyebrow. “Why not, Boss?”
I clench my jaw. “Because love isn’t for me. The people I love become targets, or they get hurt. I can’t risk that with Fee and Lou.”
Jimbo leans back, his eyes thoughtful. “Love’s always a risk, Angelo. But it’s also what makes life worth living.”
Romero nods enthusiastically. “Yeah, Boss. You gotta be open to it. You deserve happiness too, you know.”
“But you still have to be cautious,” Jimbo warns, his wrinkled face serious. “Especially with Gino on the loose.”
I lean forward, my eyes narrowing. “What do you mean about Gino, Jimbo?”
Jimbo’s face grows grim. “Word is, he set a car bomb in Alberto Caputo’s car. Didn’t go off, but the message was clear.”
I feel a surge of anger but keep my voice steady. “That’s a fucking bold move. We need to take him out.”
“It’s not that simple, Boss,” Romero interjects. “We need to know how deep his Chicago connections run.”
I nod, a plan forming. He’s right. “Romero, I want you in Chicago. Get the answers we need.”
A slow, dangerous smile spreads across Romero’s face. “With pleasure, Boss.”
The rest of the day is a blur of meetings. I negotiate a new territory agreement with the Rossetti family, subtly reminding them of the consequences of crossing the Pirellis. I authorize a hit on a traitor within our ranks, my voice cold as I sign what amounts to his death warrant. Throughout it all, I maintain the mask of Don Pirelli—calculating, ruthless, untouchable.
But as the last meeting wraps up, Jimbo and Romero’s words from earlier echo in my mind. Do I deserve to be happy? The thought of Fee’s smile, of Lou’s laughter, brings a warmth to my chest that I quickly suppress.
Almost without thinking, I pull out my phone and text Fee.
“What are you up to?”
Her reply comes quickly.
“Hoping to check on Perfezione, but it’s still a crime scene. Feeling a bit lost.”
A plan forms in my mind.
“Be ready in an hour. Wear something nice.”
An hour later, I’m pulling up to my brownstone in one of my classic cars, a gray 1965 Rolls-Royce Silver Shadow. Fee emerges, looking stunning in a simple black dress.
“Where are we going?” she asks as she slides into the passenger seat.
I give her a rare, genuine smile. “It’s a surprise.”
“What about Lou? Who is picking her up from school?”
God, she’s so fucking adorable. “Lou will be having a fun afternoon with Aunt Shawn,” I reply.
