Page 2 of The Fixer

That gunshot was just one of the many things that had gone wrong. One of the many things I should have stopped.

Our conversation stale, Giordano excused himself and moved on. There was movement toward the table, a shifting of bodies, like a dinner bell had rung. I turned my back on my friend, my gaze darting to D’Angelo, wondering if he’d seen me talking to the man he’d forbidden me to speak to not an hour before.

“We’ll talk later,” Mateo muttered before leaving my side. And though he didn’t see it, I shook my head.

We wouldn’t talk later.

Because it was him D’Angelo forbade me to speak to.

And nobody went against Paulo D’Angelo’s wishes and lived.

Mateo moved to Queenie’s side and put his hand on her back as he led her to their seats at Paulo’s right. The old man, Cosimo Provenza, did little to suppress his scowl as he led his wife to their seats across the table from my friend. There was no doubt his discontent came from choosing the wrong side in the war we’d waged against the Silvas earlier this year. Had we followed his lead, we never would have won, and it would have been our people who had died, not theirs.

Giordano and his family sat down next to Arik David and his, with Arik’s sister, Jael, seated on the outside. Rounding the table, I shuffled toward the end, past my parents, past my aunt and uncle, finding an empty spot next to the only other person here who brought no family.

Zeno gave me a brief nod, a fractured smile gracing his lips as he ran his palms down his thighs under the table. Relief trickled through me; the man looked as uncomfortable as I felt. Not for the first time, I felt I’d been relegated to the kids’ table. Next to Zeno sat Clara Vinci, and her older brother, Stephano. Other than three-year-old Chaya David, they were the youngest people here tonight.

Before I could say a word, Paulo’s staff swept in from the kitchen, bottles of wine clinking on the metal carts they pushed around the table. As they began filling glasses, I shifted in my seat, blocking my aunt Serafina from my view, turning my attention to the man who’d helped me out so many times the past few years it was a wonder I hadn’t spoken to him more.

“How are things, Zee?”

His gaze whipped back to me from his left and he blinked, though, for a moment, he seemed to freeze. Then, after rubbing a knuckle across his chin, he said, “Good. I’m good. Things are great.”

“Yeah?” I let my gaze wander the room for a moment, landing on D’Angelo. Let him see me talking to his lieutenant rather than my friend. “Keeping busy, huh?”

Zee huffed out a breath. “Busier than usual.”

“The end is in sight.” I didn’t mean to be cryptic, but it was the truth. The changes just hadn’t been announced quite yet.

Zee hummed out his agreement, those palms rubbing down his thighs once more. Over my shoulder, I felt a body closing in. Turning to make room for the staff pouring drinks, I instead found Serafina’s droll little grin.

“You boys are quiet.”

Bristling at her comment, I forced a smile I didn’t feel. As if it didn’t bother me to be considered a boy. As if it didn’t bother me to have my life’s goal ripped out from under me, throwing me into the one thing I’d never, ever wanted.

Over my shoulder, a wine glass appeared, and I took it gladly, raising it toward my aunt. “Just waiting on a drink, Zia Sera.”

She patted my arm, leaving her hand there, keeping me from taking a much-needed gulp. She turned her gaze to Zee. “Zeno, it’s good to see you again. How’s your practice?”

Zee jumped at his name, his gaze popping up from the empty table in front of him. He cleared his throat and gave a pained smile I felt in my soul. “Great. It’s good. Never better.”

“Doc just got himself an apprentice.”

“Oh?” Sera’s hand tightened on my arm as she looked across the table at Stephano. “Well, congratulations! I didn’t know you wanted to go into the medical field.”

Stephano shook his head, tossing his thumb in the direction of his sister as a cocky grin pulled at his lips. “Not me. It’s this one he’s stuck with.”

Clara’s eyes widened over the lip of her wine glass. Stephano hissed under his breath.

“For fuck’s sake, brat,” he said, snatching Clara’s glass from her hands and placing it nearly out of her reach. “Drunk isn’t a good look on you.”

Clara clasped her hands in her lap, only raising her head when Sera addressed her.

“You’re going to be working for Zeno? My dear, you’re so young.”

The girl straightened her back, her chin lifting as her pretty brown eyes sparkled. There was a proud bite to her voice when she said, “I’m not much younger than Zeno was when he delivered me and got his start.”

Sera’s grip on my arm loosened and she pulled it back as if retreating from a poisonous snake. A grin tugged at my lips, and I raised my wine glass, covering my smile with a drink.