Page 79 of Thin Lives

Once more.

And again.

Calisto swallowed hard, staring at the sleeping, dark-haired, olive-skinned, black-eyed baby just beyond the glass.

Was it possible?

Was this another thing he was missing?

Was there a reason Emma wouldn’t have told him—a reason like her husband, and Calisto’s lost memories?

Was that baby—

“Now, about the Irish,” Affonso said, turning away from the window to face Calisto.

He schooled his features, hoping his emotional upheaval was well hidden. “I will handle them.”

“Will you?”

“I’ve had several talks with the Marcellos. It’ll end, uncle.”

Affonso looked pleased to hear it. “Wonderful.”

“But they did want to know something,” Calisto said.

“Which was what?”

“The same thing I would like to know—why you’re in any sort of feud with the Irish family at all.”

Affonso’s cold mask was firmly back in place in a blink. “What you need to concern yourself with—and nothing else—is the fact they nearly killed me, and you, at one point. That is enough for you. Do you understand?”

Calisto stared into Affonso’s eyes—the same soul-black gaze he had.

Except his was never cold.

Calisto’s eyes never lied.

“Yeah, zio, I got it.”

“Good. I will give you a call about the meet-and-greet dinner Emma wants to have for the baby. Oh, and I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Ray to be the godfather.”

Calisto found he did mind, as he was sure a couple of months ago, Affonso had asked him to be the godfather. He glanced to the side, finding Ray watching him silently.

Just the way Ray’s head was turned in his direction, his arm outstretched toward the Capo to take the card he was handing over, made Calisto pause.

He blinked.

Familiar.

Calisto could feel the steering wheel under his hands again, the dark highway ahead of his vision.

It was that night—the one he kept dreaming about. The dream that ended in a nightmarish way with his car on its top, and then … blackness, nothing.

But this time, when he turned to see who was speeding up beside his vehicle, their window rolling down, and the flash of metal that peeked out … Calisto found a familiar face.

Ray.

Calisto had never felt more insane—more crazed, caged—than he did pacing the length of his club’s large office. He’d only come here to the club because he knew it would be mostly empty given it was in the middle of the day and a weekday, no less. Only a few employees were downstairs, and they hadn’t even noticed him when he came in and went straight to the elevator that led to his office.