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Gianna blinked, as if she was surprised to be included. She mainly kept to herself, I think trying not to be a bother to me or anyone else in the house. Maybe she worried herself that if she annoyed us we’d throw her out, but that wouldn’t happen. I’d told her I’d take care of her, and I’d meant it.
“Um,” she started, “I don’t know… the tax man?”
The table was silent for a few moments, and then Luca busted out laughing. “You think the IRS is calling him at—” He checked the time on his phone. “—eight in the morning? Oh, wait. Hold on. I have a text, too.”
Cade sighed and looked at me. I swore, telepathically, I heard him ask me what the hell I saw in Luca.
After reading the message, Luca shoveled down the rest of his scrambled eggs and said, “I gotta eat and run. Cade, my man, will you clean up for me? Thanks.” He didn’t wait for Cade to reply. He simply stood, came over to kiss me on the cheek, and left.
“I’m not his fucking maid,” Cade huffed.
“I’ll get it,” Gianna said, standing. “I’m done anyway.” She picked up her plate and moved to where Luca had been sitting.
“No,” Cade said, “leave it there for him, for when he gets back. If he’s going to live in this house, he needs to learn to pick up after himself. I’m sick of doing it for him. I’m not his goddamned mother, and neither are you.”
I had to hide a smile. It sounded like a typical husband-wife squabble, only Cade was the annoyed wife in this situation.
“I’m going to the kitchen anyway to put mine away. It’s really no trouble,” Gianna spoke, taking the plate in spite of Cade’s resistance. “I can take yours too, if you’re done.” Cade grumbled at that, but he said not a thing. He did, however, pick up his plate and set it on top of Luca’s.
Standing, I grabbed Zander’s plate and said, “I’ll come with you.” It wasn’t like Gianna could bend over and put any of these in the dishwasher, anyway. That was a job for someone with no round, pregnant belly.
Gianna followed me into the kitchen, and it was as I was loading the dishwasher that Zander appeared, no longer on the phone. “We have a meeting with the Black Hand,” he told me. “And by we, I mean you. Just you, Giselle.”
I finished loading the dishwasher and shut it, and when I straightened out, I met his worried stare. Zander was a worry wart when it came to me, it was true. What he meant, what he didn’t specifically say was: the meeting was with me, meaning I couldn’t bring him with me.
And that was fine. I didn’t need him by my side to protect me every hour of every day. Whatever consequences there would be, I would accept them graciously. Shay had gone along with my plans, and that was more than I could’ve ever hoped for. Even if Shay didn’t want to take any of the blame herself, I was fine with that.
“We need to leave in fifteen minutes,” Zander said.
Leaning on the island, Gianna had a hand on her belly. “Good luck.”
Luck wasn’t something I needed, not anymore. If I used up all my luck to take Miguel down, then I’d say that was a fantastic use of it. I quickly got ready, dressed myself in all black—guess the Black Hand fashion sense was rubbing off on me after all. The only splash of color on me was the golden cross that hung around my neck. I learned I could shorten it and have the cross hang just above my chest if I wrapped the chain around my neck twice.
When it was time to go, I said goodbye to Cade, and then we left. Zander drove me downtown, and since it was still kind of rush hour, the drive took longer than it should’ve.
“Just like old times, huh?” Zander asked.
I rolled my head away from the window so I could look at him. “I wouldn’t say it’s just like old times.” Let’s not forget the old times Zander was referring to involved Miguel pulling the strings behind our backs, telling Zander to shoot me, and leaving me for dead after forcing himself on me.
So, no, not quite like old times.
“Ah, come on. I’m your chauffeur again. I should get one of those black hats to wear,” he mused.
“Only if you get the matching uniform,” I joked back, earning myself a smile from him.
After telling Shay the truth, I didn’t think I’d tell Zander or the others. I didn’t let myself think about Miguel or what he did to me. It was in the past. I wanted to move on. The man in question was dead; he’d finally gotten what he deserved. What would be the point in telling them?
No. I did not need to tell them what Miguel did to me in order to be whole again. I was stronger now than I was before. It was my secret, my truth, and other than Shay, it’d be a truth that would die with me.
Traffic was a bitch; we got to the Black Hand building downtown a little late. Zander pulled off to let me get out—but not before he reached over to me and gave me a kiss for good luck.
Silly Zander. As if a kiss would change whatever was coming.
I got out of the car, angled my head back to gaze up at the tall skyscraper. The same building I’d first met Luca, Cade, Ezekiel, and Damian in. The same building whose courtyard garden was where Miguel bit the dust. Truly, this place held a lot of memories for me.
I guess it’d hold one more.
I went inside the lobby and headed straight for the woman working behind the front desk. She must only work weekdays, during the day, because I didn’t remember seeing her here before. “I’m here to meet—” I didn’t even get it out before she pointed to the elevator and told me to go to the top floor.
