Page 55 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

“I’m not wallowing.”

“You are. And it’s sickening. It’s been a month. Moveon.”

“It’s not that easy,” Emma said quietly. “Don’t youget that?”

“What I get is that you’re using this as an excuse toget away from me. If the church wouldn’t shun me, I would send you back to youruncle and father for them to do with you what they wished.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Affonso.”

“You … I am not fighting with you anymore about this,Emma. Next month we have the Thanksgiving party. I expect you to be present. Iam not making yet another excuse for my wife’s absence.”

“Because heaven forbid your young wife isn’t around tobat her lashes for your people,” Emma jeered.

“Get out of my face,” Affonso hissed.

Not two seconds later, Emma flew into the hallway witha scowl, fiery green eyes blazing, and a huff right on the tip of her tongue.She caught sight of Calisto waiting a few feet down from the entryway just asshe walked out of Affonso’s view from inside the office.

He waved two fingers, his silent hello.

Emma sucked in a deep breath, and walked on past.Calisto didn’t fault her for the anger she must have felt. She had every rightto be pissed off.

Rubbing the new ink on his wrist, Calisto strolledinto his uncle’s office. The tattoo of the rosary and cross on his wrist wasjust a couple of weeks old. He’d had the piece done for his own selfish needs,and nothing more.

Hidden in the design of the beads of the rosary werethe dates of death for people who’d left his life. His mother, father, andgrandfather. The month and year for the miscarriage of his child that didn’tget the chance to even be. And another bead for the baby that never had the chanceto live, but still made an impact during his short time on earth.

The rosary circled down from Calisto’s left elbow,around his arm, down to his wrist where the cross had been tattooed in his palmas if he were holding it.

It soothed him like the real thing.

But he didn’t want to keep adding dates to it.

“Zio,” Calisto greeted.

Affonso looked up from his hands. He sat behind hisdesk, rubbing his palms over his face. “Thank Dio, there you are.”

“You called?”

“I gave my driver the night off. I want to go out. Dosomething. Drive me.”

Calisto raised a brow. “You want me to act as yourdriver? There’s a half of a dozen enforcers who could do the same thing. I wasbusy picking up money and checking on your goddamn men.”

“They’re not my consigliere. You are. And you arenever too busy for me.”

Point taken.

“Now?” Calisto asked.

Affonso nodded sharply. “Get me out of this housebefore I kill that woman.”

Christ.

Calisto

Despite who he worked under in Cosa Nostra, Calistodid enjoy his job. Seeing money come in meant he was doing something right. Heliked the control he had as a consigliere, although his uncle had been usinghim for an errand runner lately.

Leaning back in the office chair, Calisto drummed hisfingers on the tabletop as the Capo chatted away from across the desk. Theoffice door was wide open, exposing the restaurant’s busy kitchen and workersmoving from one prep table to another. The chef barked his usual orders, andthe people under him moved accordingly.

“I mean, they’re still causing us issues, you knowwhat I mean?” Wolf asked.