Page 49 of Dante

“Of course, Dante. I’ll keep him in my room. You’ll never hear a peep from him.”

“You do that,” he says, looking at me a long moment.

“I was impressed by the way you took to handling a gun. I’m going to start you with formal lessons at the shooting range.”

I stop stroking Biscotti’s warm fur and look up at Dante in surprise.

“Are there new developments? A new risk?”

“Like I said, there’s always risk. You need to be prepared. That’s all.”

I turn my attention back to Biscotti.

I’m not looking forward to the range, but I know Dante doesn’t make statements without reason.

Sometime soon, I may be tested. And from what Dante’s said, the choice is simply mastering the skills to save my own life.

CHAPTER 18

GINA

Later that evening, Dante and I sit side by side in the back seat of the black limo speeding towards Silvio’s mansion.

“Quiet, Biscotti,” I whisper, trying to calm the puppy twisting and turning in my arms.

Dante warned me not to bring him. “Best to leave him at home, Gina. Silvio isn’t the type to tolerate dogs.”

But I had insisted, unable to leave my new pet alone even though Ciro would be there to care for him.

Now I’m regretting that decision.

Especially when I see the dark, reflective look on Dante’s face. Clearly, this is not an ordinary family get-together.

Already, the dress Angie and Antoine picked for me at Saks squeezes my ribs so tightly I can barely take a full breath. Worse, its corset-like structure digs into my sides every time I shift.

Finally, our driver Thomas, and my new bodyguard, veers off the road.

A massive stone mansion comes into view.

“We’re here,” says Thomas.

I hold Biscotti a little tighter as Thomas helps us out.

I’m not sure if it’s the sight of the gloomy looking mansion or plain nerves, but I’m getting an ominous vibe.

“Please be good,” I whisper in my puppy’s ear. Dante was right. I should have left him at home.

As soon as Biscotti’s paws touch the gravel, he pees on Thomas’s shiny black Italian shoe.

“I’m so sorry!” I say, mortified.

But even-tempered Thomas only forces a smile. “It’s okay, Signora Ricci. It’s part of the job.”

I hold back, hoping Dante will take my arm, but he’s engrossed in the messages on his phone.

As I walk towards the mansion with Biscotti on his sparkly leash, my gut twists. This will be my first real mafia dinner.

When we reach the mansion, Dante puts his arm around me and I realize he’s armed.