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His brow furrows.
“What, you want anthrax in it or something?”
“Literally just a letter. No assassination shit.”
Curse crosses his arms, nodding slowly, digesting.
“Alright. So what do you want it to say? You gonna send him back another riddle?”
“No,” I say, a grin tugging at my mouth. “My engagement announcement.”
Chapter 8
Elio
Curse and I find out pretty quick that we’re both shit at trying to write this kind of stuff. After squinting and squabbling over examples of engagement announcements online and nearly wearing out the delete key on my keyboard, we give up on trying to get this done by ourselves.
He’s a hitman and I’m a mafia underboss. Not exactly prime examples of excellent wedding industry copywriters.
“We need Valentina,” I say, and though my brother doesn’t show emotion much I swear that he looks relieved.
I grab my phone off my desk and use voice command to call our cousin.
She answers on the first ring.
“Where are you? Where the hell have you been?” her high voice squawks into my ear.
Oh. Right. I disappeared up north to deal with Deirdre’s ex Brian and then got stuck there due to the snow. When I came back, I was completely focused on Deirdre and then the chaos that unfolded at her mamma’s grave. Meanwhile Valentina had been calling and texting me most of that time, asking me where I’d disappeared to. Uncle Vinny didn’t call me, but he didn’t need to. I know he doesn’t like when Curse and I jet off without telling him what’s what and he’ll be waiting for an update.
Well, he’s going to get one, alright. Soon as we get this announcement out to the media outlets.
But we need to actually write it first.
Since Valentina is one of approximately three females alive on this planet that I actually give a fuck about, and more like a little sister to me than a cousin, I let the rudeness of her greeting slide.
“I’m at home with Curse. Get over here,” I tell her.
I hang up and toss the phone down. I know she’s going to want to complain or ask questions or argue and I have no patience for that right now.
I also know that if I tell her to come, she’ll come.
Curse disappears for a bit to chat with Enzo, my head of security, and update him on what’s going on with the letter we received and how we’re handling it. While I wait for Valentina, I occupy myself by watching Deirdre sleep. I open the security app on my computer instead of just my phone this time, blowing up the image of her snoozing away on the bigger screen.
It's getting close to 10am now. But after everything that happened to my Songbird last night and the adrenaline that’s likely left her rung out like a rag, I wouldn’t be surprised if she sleeps well past noon today. Maybe even later.
She’s still curled into the place I left behind. I wonder if, at least in sleep, she misses me.
About twenty minutes after I make the phone call, the door bursts open and Valentina sweeps in, followed by Curse. For somebody so damn short, she sure does have presence, our cousin. Must be a Titone thing. While Curse and I got height from our papà’s side, Uncle Vinny is our maternal uncle, and like his daughter he isn’t necessarily blessed in the height department. But it doesn’t matter one iota, because Vincenzo Titone fills a fucking room like you’ve stuffed a bull into a custom Italian suit and unleashed him on civilized society.
Valentina comes to a moody stop in front of my desk and starts yanking at a ridiculous number of shiny metal fasteners and buttons on a long, army-green coat. Once it’s off she tosses it down onto one of the leather armchairs on the other side of my desk, revealing leggings and a bright pink sweater.
“What’s going on with your hair?” I ask her. It’s wet and clipped messily on the top of her head. I wouldn’t normally care, but that’s very unusual for Valentina, whose hair is always perfectly coiffed. Going out in public, or even just to my place with kind of fucked-up hair means something’s off with her, and I need her on her A game to get this engagement announcement just right.
“You tell me,” she says, blowing out a harsh sigh through glossy lips and planting her hands on her hips. “You’re the one who dragged me out of the salon before Antonio could start blow-drying it.”
“Well, I needed you for something more important than salon shit.” I click out of the security all on my computer and re-open the page of engagement announcement examples. The cupcake-sweet fonts swirl in front of my eyes, incomprehensible in their flourishes. “I need you to help me write an engagement announcement.”
She tenses, but is quick to relax and not let it show. I see it, though.
