Page 35 of Venomous Throne

Steam billowed from the shower. I stepped onto the stone mat, toes wriggling as I wrapped the towel around my waist. On the vanity, my phone buzzed.

It was Franky. He was coming over in ten minutes.

“Shit,” I said to the foggy glass that hid my reflection.

It was a cardinal sin to appear with wet hair. Grabbing the blower, I began to dry the locks.

Maybe I should cut some.

I had changed my look already. And I wouldn’t go short-short. Just more manageable. Being the big boss meant I had to be ready at a moment’s notice.

But being a woman of Italian heritage, raised by a strict, traditional mother, wearing wet hair in public was not an option.

Deciding to make an emergency appointment at the salon in between my day at the car dealership and the million other things I had to do to take over the empire, I wondered how women like Elizabeth the First or Catherine the Great managed.

“Maybe a lady in waiting would be a good investment,” I mused to the clearing mirror.

I barely managed to trip into some black slacks, a fitted camisole, and tug the jacket over my shoulders before I clattered down the stairs. This new pair of ballet flats hadn’t yet given me a blister, but I also hadn’t walked enough in them for a proper test.

Franky was letting himself in the kitchen door as I popped into the open concept living space.

“Buon giorno, signora,” he said, dipping his chin in a nod of respect.

Three serious faces appeared behind me.

Uh-oh. Something was up.

I looked at Donnie, Joseph, and Mikey, then back at Franky. “Hi, gentlemen. I’m sorry, I don’t have anything for breakfast.”

Joseph held up a bag of pastries. “We took care of that.”

“Great!” I hurried to start a pot of coffee on the stove as the men settled around my kitchen island. Standing, not sitting.

The uneasy tension crackled through the space.

Once the Bialetti was on the stove, I turned. “What happened?”

Mikey cleared his throat. “We asked around about the man you had dinner with.”

The invasion of privacy rocked me. “I didn’t ask you to do that.”

The moment the words were out of my mouth, I realized my mistake. This life wasn’t mine. They were wrapped up in it with me. We rose or fell, lived or died, on the actions of our unit.

“Signora—”

“No, wait.” I held up my hand. “I’m sorry.”

That floored them. Two of them sat hard. The others blinked at me as if I were an apparition.

Dons didn’t apologize.

To me, that was bullshit, because humans did.

“You were just looking out for me. It was a surprise, that’s all.” I took down five cups, saucers, and plates. Once the coffee bubbled, I poured. Only then did I trust myself to speak. “What did you find?”

“Nothing.”

I looked at Mikey. “Nothing?”