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She grimaces, and her voice rumbles out of clenched teeth as a rumble. "Shouldn't you ask Xander? He's your husband."
I give her a cold glower and fold my hands across my stomach. "And you're here. Right in front of me, worried about me. Why the hell shouldn't I ask you?"
She inhales and exhales, her chest rising and falling. She tilts her head to the door and leans into me like I had. "I can't say much. Xander doesn't want you worried or in fear. But things aren't as they should be."
My heart quakes and flips like an obstacle in a hurricane. I bite my lip to hold back the cry on my tongue.
Then, I ask the question that I'm most worried about. "Is he in danger?" Even the thought of it has my stomach queasy and cold.
Rosa's eyes are flinty. "È solo di questo che ti preoccupi?" Do you not understand what I've just said?"
What else was there to worry about? Xander would never let any harm come to his son. And by extension, that meant no harm would come to me. He would lay down his life to protect his child. So why wouldn't I worry about him? I sure as hell knew he wouldn't worry about himself.
"I do understand. But if this is war, who does he have on his side?"
"An entire army of men who will lay their lives on the line for him. Who do you have on your side, Melissa? The Mafia is no joke. How many deaths have you seen?"
I back away from her. This was getting gory. And I had thought I wanted to know, but now I'm not certain.
Do I really want the gory details? The death? The guns? The violence? The darkness embedded in these men like diamonds in dust?
I heave, and a surge of air streams out of my nose. "Let's come back to the Charities. Tell me what I need to know."
Rosa cranks her neck, and then she stretches. "There's three. Two contributing towards a cancer cause. If you've seen his father, you'll understand why. The last provides support for children who grew up in abusive homes. If you know his family, then you'll understand why too."
God. How much worse can it get? It makes total sense why he keeps his involvement hidden. Possibly under layers of businesses and corporations that will ensure any contribution from him can never be traced back to him.
I nod sharply and turn to the screen. "Arrange the meetings. I'll meet the leaders and directors of these charities."
"What do you mean directors?" Rosa returns to the chair opposite.
I look up at her. "Isn't there someone running these places?"
"I think you'll understand when you visit." She places her head against the chair and blows her fringe off her forehead.
"Then hasten the arrangements," I say, my voice as commanding as I can make it. I need her to understand she can't weasel out of this. "And I'm visiting my father from here. Just in case my husband wants to know."
She nods and pushes to her feet, straightening her suit over her shoulders so the fabric drops into place like armor. "I'll call him. Or you could do it yourself, Melissa. You have an authority I don't think you understand yet."
With those cryptic words, she turns on her heels and marches out of the room. She holds the door open and exchanges a few words with Romero who sticks his head into the room and gives me a hard stare.
I ignore them. The screen on the computer already shows a long list of people who have in some way benefitted from the charities.
Rosa had sent it to me this morning when I arrived, along with the list of people who need help and how much money I'd need to sign for.
My heart squeezes. The money is illegal. It's the fucking Mafia. I know that much, but it's for a good cause.
I look up. I don't know how much later when the door opens, and Romero steps in. I watch as he strides to the desk and stops with his hand folded respectfully behind his back.
"It's lunch break. What shall I order?"
I smile up at him. "What time is it?"
"A few minutes past noon. The entire building should be emptying in a few minutes."
Who knew hardened men ate lunch? I'd have thought they inhaled torture and pain for sustenance. Jesus Mel! Get a grip.
"I'll have a salad. Maybe a green tea to go along with it."
