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“I can’t let Lou see me like this,” she sighs, her voice filled with worry.
“Lou?” I ask, curiosity piqued.
“My daughter,” Fee explains, and I can’t help but notice the absence of any wedding or engagement rings on her fingers.
The revelation of her having a daughter intrigues me, adding another layer to the enigma that is Sofia Saldano. Despite the mountain of work awaiting me, I make a split-second decision.
“I’m staying,” I declare, my tone leaving no room for argument. “I don’t trust Gino to stay away, and you need protection.”
Sofia starts to protest, but I hold up a hand. “Please, let me do this. For my peace of mind, if nothing else.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Thank you, Don Pirelli. I… I appreciate it.”
“Please, call me Angelo. If I get to use your nickname, it’s only fair that you use my first name.”
Fee smiles, then winces as the movement aggravates her injuries. My jaw tightens, but I keep my voice gentle. “Let me make a few calls.”
Stepping aside, I pull out my phone. “Jimbo, cancel my meetings for today. Something’s come up.” I pause, listening to his protests. “No, it can’t wait. Handle it.” My tone leaves no room for argument.
Throughout the day, I field calls, my voice alternating between sharp commands and smooth negotiations. “Tell Carmine if he can’t meet the quota, he’s out. No, the shipment goes through tonight, no excuses. If the cops ask questions, you know nothing.”
Between calls, Fee and I chat. I find myself drawn to her quick wit and warm smile, while she seems intrigued by the glimpses of the man behind the Don.
It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this… comfortable with someone.
At 3:30, the bell chimes. Zip walks in, accompanied by a young girl with thick blonde waves and piercing blue eyes shouldering a backpack. She can’t be more than nine years old.
Zip looks startled. “Don Pirelli, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
The girl stops short, her gaze fixed on me. “Who are you?” she asks bluntly, her tone more demanding than curious.
I raise an eyebrow, both amused and impressed by her directness. “I’m Angelo, a friend of your mother’s. And you must be Lou.”
Lou’s eyes narrow slightly. “Mom doesn’t have friends like you,” she states matter-of-factly.
Fee steps forward, wincing slightly. “Lou, honey, be polite. Angelo’s been helping me today.”
Lou’s gaze sharpens as she notices her mother’s injuries. “What happened?” she demands, her young voice laced with a worry beyond her years.
Fee tries to brush it off. “Oh, it’s nothing, sweetie. I just had a little accident in the shop. You know how clumsy I can be sometimes.”
Lou’s eyes narrow, clearly not buying it. She turns to me, her gaze piercing. “Did you rescue my mom?”
I consider my words carefully but decide on honesty. “Yes, I did.”
Lou nods, satisfied. Her directness and quick understanding impress me. This kid’s got moxie, and I can’t help but admire it.
“Well,” I announce, “I think this calls for a celebration. How about dinner? My treat.”
Zip starts to protest. “Don Pirelli, that’s very kind, but?—”
“Call me Angelo,” I interrupt. “I insist. How about Bella Notte?”
Fee looks uncertain, glancing at Zip. “Angelo, that’s really not necessary?—”
But Lou’s eyes have lit up. “The Italian place? I’ve heard their food is amazing!”
“Lou, how have you heard that?” Zip asks, amused.
