Page 64 of Bene

That was that, she supposed.

Vanna didn’t need to be told a second time because she knew better than to argue with Dante, or any other man inside their Camorra clan. Unless she was a woman that held any sort of power over them within their confusing structure, they didn’t—and wouldn’t—listen to anything she had to say, nor did they care about what she might want.

It was always what the boss wanted.

She wasn’t the boss.

Dante said nothing long after Vanna took a seat in the back of the car. The silence echoed as they drove through the city, just skimming the late-day traffic rush, thankfully. She bet that was purposeful because Dante, like the rest of them, knew far better than to make his boss wait for anything, including an excuse like traffic.

She didn’t bother to ask more questions because she wouldn’t get the answers, that was, if even Dante knew them. The man got orders, but rarely was he given the reason for them. Plus, she just wasn’t in the mood to talk.

At least, not to the man in the front seat.

Instead, her attention dropped to the phone in her hand, and the text she had been starting to reply to when she came out of the school, and saw Dante waiting for her. A message from Bene; her fingers hovered over the send button for the reply she’d already typed out.

Busy later?

Vanna hit send on her new reply after she deleted the old one that had confirmed she wasn’t busy, and was up for anything he wanted to do. Plans changed, it seemed, even if she didn’t want them to. She didn’t even know what Bene’s plans for the night had been, but she bet it would have been a lot more fun than what she was going to do.

I’ll get back to you, she told him.

Bene’s response came a few minutes later with, Let me know.

She typed back a confirmative reply, but quickly dropped the phone into her purse when Dante glanced into the rearview mirror. Not that he would care she was on her phone, but she didn’t feel like pushing her luck today.

An hour later, and Dante opened the rear passenger door for Vanna to step out onto a familiar driveway after he parked the car. He said nothing as she glanced toward the house, noting the only vehicles parked in front of the large three-door garage of the suburban home belonged to the boss, his wife, and Mario’s sleek, black Mercedes.

That was unusual.

Entirely.

Rarely did Vanna get an invitation to dinner with the boss, his wife, and Mario unless something was going on with the rest of the clan, and they had been extended an offer to join, as well. It didn’t matter that Senior and Gemma had taken on the responsibility of giving shelter and raising Vanna for those two years after her father’s death, before she turned eighteen and was able to move out on her own … she had never really been a part of the family.

Not like that.

The lack of other vehicles—other guests—should have been her first clue that something was definitely up here. Instead of letting her thoughts linger for too long on things she couldn’t control, Vanna headed for the house without as much as a goodbye to Dante over her shoulder. No doubt, the man didn’t care, anyway.

Quiet conversation drifted down the entry hallway from the dining room as Vanna took off her coat and shoes. She tried to keep up with the conversation Senior and Mario were currently having between one another in Italian, but with how fast they spoke, it was practically impossible for her to understand more than a couple of things. She’d never picked up on the language as well as her father wanted her to, much to his displeasure.

Not that it mattered now.

Vanna came to stand in the doorway of the dining room, finding Mario’s, and his father’s, gazes already locked on her, as though they expected her to arrive at any time. Bad sign number two, she thought.

Why?

She couldn’t say, really.

Didn’t have anything to put her finger on.

It just was.

Maybe because they’d been waiting on her, and it made sense now why no one else was here for this dinner. Because hell, even the table was empty. Where was the dinner?

“I thought we were eating,” Vanna said.

Senior smiled, but it was tight.

Not unusual for him.