Page 48 of Duty

“Why so many stars?”

Haven cleared her throat, and glanced down at the waffle she’d forgotten about in their chat. It was so easy to talk to Andino that she even forgot to feed herself. How strange was that?

“My first tattoos were a pair of stars—the ones on my lower back, you saw them. My best friend—Mari—committed suicide when she was sixteen … she was just sick, you know. Screaming for help, but nobody heard her, I think. Or we weren’t listening close enough. Anyway. She loved stars. She loved a lot of things, but especially stars. We were planning to go and have matching stars tattooed on our wrists.”

Haven laughed, but even she could hear how sad it sounded. “You know, like best friend bracelets, but less juvenile. She hung herself two days before the appointment that we’d lied about, and snuck around to get done. It was her funeral that day—I couldn’t go, so I went to the parlor instead for the appointment. It was for two stars, so I got two. One for her, and one for me. Now, whenever I get the chance to do something she never will, I add a star for her. Travel, turn eighteen, or drive a car. And it’s a good reminder for me, too. Look how lucky I am, I guess. Look at what I have, and all who love me.”

“That’s—”

Snaps lifted his head, making Haven realize in that second the dog hadn’t actually been sleeping at all, but only pretending to be. His dark eyes darted to the doorway, and his stubby tail wagged. It was only his sudden movement that stopped Andino from finishing his sentence.

They didn’t have to wait for very long to see what—or rather, who—had caught the dog’s attention. A hazel-eyed gentleman with salt peppering his dark, slicked back hair strolled into the private dining area with two men trailing close behind him. The other men stayed at the door, while the man leading them came closer. His three-piece suit was tailored perfectly to fit him, and just the way he carried himself screamed money to Haven.

Not once had their breakfast been interrupted. Not even a server came back after they’d gotten their food. Andino made it clear not to allow anyone back—unless, he’d said, it was certain people. This man must have been one of those people.

Andino’s gaze landed on the man, and his shoulders stiffened as his stare darted back to Haven just as quickly. The unknown man, on the other hand, smiled widely.

“They said you were back here, nipote.”

“Uncle Lucian,” Andino greeted, standing from the table to greet the man. He took the quick hug his uncle offered, but Haven didn’t miss how Lucian’s gaze drifted to her, and lingered for a second or two. Not in an uncomfortable way, but more … she didn’t even know how to put it. Andino sat down, but Lucian stayed standing. “I didn’t know you were coming over this way.”

“Last minute thing,” Lucian murmured. “Who is this? I didn’t know you had a friend—does your father know? Or … Dante, Andi?”

Andino cleared his throat, and glanced back at Haven. She could tell just by the way his mouth settled into a grim line, and the hardness of his jaw that he didn’t like where this was going. And all of the sudden, Haven wished she wasn’t there at all.

This breakfast had started so well.

Why was it ending like this?

She was missing something.

Haven was sure of it.

“Haven, this my uncle—Lucian Marcello. Zio, this is Haven.”

“Haven,” Lucian repeated as though he was trying her name in his mouth.

Haven stared the man head-on. “Haven Murphy, actually.”

Andino kept that same blank expression. “Yes, Haven. A friend.”

“Oh, I figured that much out,” Lucian said, looking at Andino, “the better question is what kind of friend? Safely assume that’s what your boss is going to ask, Andino, and you better have a good answer.”

What?

• • •

“Thank you for letting me take you out to breakfast,” Andino murmured.

He pulled the Lexus to a smooth stop in front of Haven’s house. On the porch, she could see Valeria reading on her e-reader, and drinking a coffee. Her friend pretended like she didn’t see a car drive up with Haven inside, but she knew that was just Valeria’s way of giving her some sense of privacy.

“Yeah, sure,” Haven replied.

“I don’t know when I might be back around, but—”

Haven had other things to ask, and talk about, actually. “So, we’re just going to ignore the awkward and strange conversation that happened when your uncle showed up? And how he left right after, but barely even spoke to me?”

Andino sighed in the driver’s seat, but kept his gaze firmly stuck on the road ahead of him through the windshield. She didn’t think she had ever met someone who was as in control of himself and his emotions as Andino Marcello. He could seem cold even when she could plainly tell he was also frustrated.