Page 15 of The Mobster’s Present

It’s only after everyone is done eating that the air shifts slightly in the room. When I look up, Angelo is studying me and my spine straightens before I can stop it. Salvatore’s thumb moves back and forth over the soft lounge pants, a reminder that he’s right here next to me.

I’m surprised by how comforting the thought is.

“Is it okay to talk about Oriana with everyone present?” Angelo’s question surprises me, but I nod because I don’t see it mattering either way.

I’m here for one thing—to have my daughter’s treatment paid for. Oaklynn has already been so kind.

“I’ve been researching specialists in town,” Angelo says it like this is any other day and he’s set out on any other mission. My eyebrows furrow together, but I keep my mouth shut because I have a feeling he’s not done. “Once we find the right fit, Oriana’s records can be sent over to get her and her care transferred here right away.”

I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished speaking. “No, that’s not necessary,” I insist. “I appreciate that she’s your niece, and I do need help paying for her treatment,” I sigh, “but moving to Seattle was never my plan.”

Salvatore’s thumb stills. I notice. Three beats, as if cataloguing the moment. Then he continues.

The temperature in the room drops, but it doesn’t feel like a threat. It feels like something deeper; a truth.

“I don’t want to scare you,” there’s reluctance in Angelo’s voice, “but you need to face the reality that your daughter has Amato blood.”

His words hang heavy in the air. I absorb them. They feel different than they did when I feared them in the darkest parts of the night. That was when I could believe that every sound meant Romeo had found me.

Time helped dull those nights, but they never really went away.

“Romeo wasn’t worthy of the name, and his death was a mercy over far too quickly.” His words hold weight. “Those sins are only his own. Never Oriana’s.”

The knot in my gut loosens just a little bit more. “I understand,” I hold his gaze, hoping he can see how deeply his words land.

Angelo nods once before leaning back in his chair. “The reality is that her blood makes her valuable and vulnerable. You’ll be in Dario Moretti’s territory. Even though I have no doubt he’ll allow Salvatore entrance,” he eyes the man next to me, whose thumb pauses for one beat this time, “it would be safter for her to be here.”

I’m unwilling to examine the danger wrapped up with his warning and turn toward Salvatore. “You’re really coming with me to LA?”

“I already told you I was packed,” he reminds me and I narrow my eyes. “I’m not letting my woman go alone to take care of our daughter.”

“I really don’t understand you,” I grumble.

“You get used to it,” Dove chirps with a huge smile on her face while cutting her eyes toward Angelo. He isn’t fazed. “Just make sure to keep him on his toes.”

I have no idea what she’s talking about, but the exaggerated wink she throws at me has me biting back a laugh and barely managing. The room settles into something softer and allows me a moment to think.

Angelo is coming from a good place, and I can’t deny there is a certain logic to what he’s saying. But moving back to Seattle? It’s not something I considered.

Sal’s thumb keeps its rhythm. Gentle. Tempting. There.

“She has a little over a week,” my words start out slowly, “left on this phase of her treatment and then she’ll be discharged. Could we,” I hesitate, but push the words out, “set up a plan to come here when she’s discharged. The handoff between teams would be longer, and consultations could happen over the phone or video. Then it wouldn’t be rushed and would be a seamless fresh start for Oriana.”

Angelo looks at me for a long moment before lowering his chin slightly. “I can work with that.” Something shifts in his eyes. “But I can’t go down to LA right now.”

“Then she’ll have more than one surprise waiting for her when we get here,” the words feel fragile as I offer them to the brother of the man who tormented me while also gave me the greatest blessing of my life.

Suddenly I feel like I may understand him a little bit better.

“Perfect,” Oaklynn’s voice is bright. “I already have a call out to Vivian Mason,” she glances toward me and explains, “the mayor’s wife. She’s does a lot of charity work and sits on a few boards. Whatever she sends over, I’ll forward.”

Reign lets out a grunted, “Da.”

Kirill stands up and strides toward Oaklynn. “I’m looking forward to meeting Oriana. Travel safely and we look forward to when you’re back home,” his tone is polite, but I have a feeling that’s downright fucking warm with him.

Oaklynn looks up at him with stars in her eyes and pride written all over her face. The man doesn’t blush but his jaw clenches. It’s enough.

The men move with precision, Baker’s hand never leaving Reign’s back as he coos softly. “I’ll make sure the wheels of philanthropy work to our advantage on this one,” Oaklynn calls over her shoulder.