Page 42 of Duty

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“We could find you an appropriate wife,” his father explained, “if that’s what you would prefer.”

Jesus Christ.

Not likely.

“She has to be appropriate for your standing, and for la famiglia,” his uncle reminded him. “I can’t give you much longer to figure this out on your own, Andi.”

Yeah, shit.

Probably not.

With a flick of his wrist, Dante dismissed Andino from the meeting without a word. Andino just wanted to get the hell out of there, and get back to his bed as soon as possible. He didn’t say goodbye as he left the office and found Snaps patiently waiting for him at the end of the hallway like he always did.

Giovanni followed Andino out. “Don’t stress over the semantics, son. Dante is on edge lately, that’s all.”

“Mmm—heard through the grapevine that Catherine is fucking around with Cross Donati again. How much truth is there to that?”

Because … that spelled bad news for Andino, in a way. Andino might have been able to keep his business with Cross quiet when Dante wasn’t keeping an eye on the man since he wouldn’t be anywhere near Catherine. But if Cross was screwing with Dante’s daughter, it wasn’t likely that their deal for Cross to run the guns would stay secret.

Didn’t he have enough to worry about where his boss was concerned without adding that to it, too? Andino fucking thought so.

“Quite true, from what I hear,” Giovanni said. “And you know, from the way Dante’s going on about it. Like I said, don’t stress over all that shit. You’re doing you, and taking care of your business like you’re supposed to. That’s what matters.”

Right.

Like he was supposed to.

Not that he was working with a man who his uncle hated just to make sure a deal went through. That wouldn’t matter at all.

Right.

Andino bent down to pet Snaps—his one source of calm in his life right now. “Kind of hard not to stress, that’s all.”

“You could let us look for a wife, if—”

“Just … don’t bother right now,” Andino muttered.

“Dante is right, though. She does need to be appropriate for your standing. Italian, Catholic, preferably in the life, or from a similar family. A good reputation. A respectable wife for a boss.”

Andino scoffed, and under his breath, said, “I suppose a non-Italian white girl who occasionally dances on a pole and is tattooed all over won’t fit the bill, huh?”

“What?”

He glanced up at his father.

Shit.

He really thought he said that quieter.

“Nothing,” he said. “I need to take Snaps for a walk.”

“Yeah, all right, son. You do that.”

SIX

“… to see what she could see, see, see …”