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Benny’s goal tonight is to keep Mayor Miller in power. The mayor turns the other cheek to Marchetti crimes and gets rid of anyone who questions our name. He’s already fired two prosecutors who publicly swore they’d clean the streets of organized crime.
Morons.
Did they not realize they’d become target number one on organized crime families’ hit lists?
There are two types of politicians:
Ones who want to get rid of crime and end up dead and corrupt ones who are paid off by my father.
I’ve witnessed many of them come to my father with requests to commit crimes for them.
But I like Mayor Miller. He keeps my family out of prison, invites me to balls, and always compliments my dresses.
As a man should.
When we enter the ballroom, I loop my arm through Benny’s. A soft melody from the orchestra radiates through the packed event. I’m surrounded by money—men wearing expensive tuxedos and women donning lavish gowns and expensive jewelry that cost more than the average New York income.
“Let’s get this bullshit over with,” Benny grumbles.
“I love your enthusiasm,” I reply, patting his chest. “Such a fun time you are.”
We only ever stay long enough to show our faces and for Benny to complete whatever business my father instructed him to do. When he’s finished, we leave. There’s no lingering, engaging in small talk, or sipping bubbly champagne. It’s all business, all the damn time.
The mayor compliments me when we reach him, and Benny slips me a pointed look, telling me to stay within view yet not close enough to hear their conversation.
“I need to use the restroom,” I whisper to him.
“Come right back.”
I weave through people, and luckily, there’s not a line. When I walk inside, a group of women stand in front of the mirror, touching up their makeup and debating on which eligible bachelor has the largest net worth. I cringe when one mentions Benny.
“I’d risk my life to spend a night with his psycho ass,” the woman says, bumping her friend’s hip with hers. She slaps a hand over her mouth when she notices me in the mirror’s reflection.
I enter my stall, and they’re gone when I step out to wash my hands. As soon as I leave, someone grabs my arm and swings me around the corridor corner. A cold hand clasps over my mouth, and I elbow the man’s stomach while he draws me away from the party, shoving me into a dark room.
No, a closet.
He shuts the door, and the lock makes a resounding click.
“What the fuck did I tell you about wandering around alone?”
The light switches on, and Antonio comes into sight.
My body relaxes. This man might’ve pushed me into a closet, but I can’t stop my lips from twitching into a grin. I didn’t know when I’d see him again.
Antonio doesn’t return the gesture. “Don’t smile at me, Giana. I don’t appreciate disobedience that can get you killed.”
“Why do you care if Iwander around alonewhen it seems that every time I do, I fall straight into your mouse trap?” I squint at him. “Speaking of that, do you have GPS on me?” Anytime I’m alone,boom, Antonio appears.
“No.” He runs a hand over his jaw. “We could arrange that if you’d like though?”
“No, thank you.” I cross my arms. “The fewer crazies who know where I am, the better.”
He smirks. “You think I’m crazy?”
“I don’t think so. Iknowyou’re certifiable.”
“Certification is always preferred in trades, so I’ll take it.”
