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I let go of the wooden blinds and slowly faced her.
“Tell me now. Don’t make me wait. Hell, clearly Hudson knows what’s going on or he wouldn’t be here.” Izzy was leaning into the interior frame of the door now, her humor and happiness absent from her face. All hard, sad lines now. “Please.”
I gathered in a deep breath and scratched my jawline, contemplating what to do. Before I could decide whether to confess the truth, my phone began vibrating in my pocket.
It was my mother’s cousin. “One second. I need to answer this message,” I told her.
Giovanni: I have the name. I’d rather share it in person. Offer my apologies to your family face-to-face. I heard you were back in New York.
The fact that news had traveled fast that I was in town didn’t shock me. There were always eyes on me when I was here.
Me: You need my parents’ blessing for an impromptu visit. Call them. And just give me the name now.
“What is it?” Izzy asked, coming closer, and I looked up to see her worried expression.
“Just Maria’s ex causing problems,” I said once reading the information he’d texted. As I’d suspected, he provided Thomas’s name.
Giovanni: Are we good now?
Me: Did you shut down their side operation?
Giovanni: They work for Nico since he’s slowly taking over for me. I already spoke with him. He’d like to come to your home as well. Apologize in person.
I didn’t know Nico that well, which only meant the man hadn’t done anything to piss my brothers and me off yet.
Giovanni’s wife had only given him a daughter, and he’d always wanted a son to take over for him. From what I knew, he’d arranged for his daughter to marry a Sicilian when she was barely even out of high school. And Giovanni had been grooming Nico for twenty years to become the head of the family “business.”
When I didn’t answer, Giovanni texted again.
Giovanni: If your family agrees, we’ll all come tomorrow. Make amends.
I didn’t bother to respond, too damn angry. I shoved my phone back in my pocket, still unsure how to handle the Thomas situation. But I’d need to shelve that problem for later. I had to catch Bianca’s killer first.
I fixed my attention on Izzy, wishing it’d been Jesse who’d texted instead. No messages or voice mails from him while I’d been out of contact, since my phone had gone for a swim.
“Who was that?” Izzy asked, but then I was saved by the bell. Well, the doorbell. “That must be Pablo.” She nervously slapped her hands to the sides of her legs as if trying to discard sweat from her palms.
I set my hand to her back and motioned for her to walk. She remained quiet as we made our way back to the foyer, but Alessandro beat us to the door. He was busy talking to Izzy’s boyfriend, so he didn’t notice we were there yet.
“Your last name, what is it?” Alessandro had his hands in his gray slacks’ pockets, eyes steady on his target.
Pablo-not-Picasso had his blond hair up in a man bun, and he had ripped jeans like my sister’s but with paint on them and a tattered tee with ... flip-fucking-flops.
Were we being Punk’d?
“Why do you need to know?” Pablo asked, eyes moving to Izzy as if searching for a save, and she quickly went to his side and hooked an arm around his back to protect him from the scrutiny of my brother. Good luck with that. I was next in line, too.
“I need a name to run a background check,” Alessandro plainly said. “I can snap your photo and upload that, but that’s a time suck.”
“He’s funny.” Pablo pointed to him before his eyes landed on me, and he took an uncomfortable step back.
What, did I look threatening? Good.
Alessandro faced me, and his expression changed from menacing to warm. “Hey.” He pulled me in for a one-arm hug, patted my back twice; then we both became laser-focused on the man I sure as hell didn’t like.
“He doesn’t have a last name.” Izzy spoke for her boyfriend that time. “He changed it to just Pablo.”
“Like Cher. Prince. Madonna. Elvis.” Pablo smiled. “Just Pablo.”
