Page 29 of One Filthy Kiss

“I can’t protect you in London, Meggie.” I entwine my fingers with hers. “I can protect you here. I’ll double mysecurity in the hotel. I’ll triple it, if it will give you peace of mind.”

“But…” She chews her bottom lip as Amber returns with Ric pulling a bright-red plastic cart behind him. “What about Amber?”

“I don’t understand. Where you go, Amber goes, right?”

A warm flush appears high on her cheeks, and she licks her lips. I want to suck her bottom lip right there in FAO Schwarz surrounded by families and wide-eyed children, but I force myself to remember that this isn’t about me.

“I meant Amber should go back to school next week. What about my job? Our apartment?”

“You can homeschool her. Work for me. I’ll pay the rent on your apartment for the next twelve months. Anything else?”

She chuckles. “I can’t let you do that for us, Gio.”

“I’m not asking for your permission. I want to do it. If you’re with me, I know that you’re safe.”

“You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

I pull her close, wind my fingers through her hair, and whisper in her ear, “Mia casa e la tua casa. Mio letto e il tuo letto. What’s mine is yours, fiore, and my life will be empty without you in it.”

I’ve spent the last few days trying to track down anyone who might’ve been at the 2009 charity event attended by my parents and Steve Barone. While Meggie dozes during the night, I open up my tablet and scour the Internet for thecoward’s name, hitting brick walls and following dead ends at every turn.

I know how easy it is to make someone disappear. I have connections here and in Sicily who could make it happen for me at the snap of my fingers, so the deeper I dig into Steve Barone’s past, the more likely it is that he has the protection of someone powerful.

For now, anyway.

They might’ve made the slight inconvenience of his murdered girlfriend’s corpse go away, but everyone has a price.Everyone. All I need to do is trace his connections back to the puppet master and apply enough pressure to make them realize that the asshole isn’t worth their time or effort.

Then, once he has been cast adrift, I’ll deal with him.

After the text message from Nikki, we cut short our plans for the day and came back to my apartment. Amber is happy—she has enough dolls to open her own toy store—and although Meggie’s eyes follow her around, she is soon singing along to ‘Sweet Caroline’ while she bakes red velvet cupcakes. Amber’s favorite apparently.

I tell them that something urgent has come up requiring my attention and head down to my office on the level beneath the penthouse. I sit behind my desk, power up my computer, and explore all my contacts back home in Sicily. In our world, it doesn’t pay to let acquaintances fade into the background, and this is like returning to a game of chess that was abandoned a while ago.

I trawl through the scrupulously clean records of corporations owned by every mafia family with a connection to the Sabatellis. I review every charity event, every partycovered by the media, every wedding, funeral, and christening that has happened over the past five years. But when I try to find a link to Steve Barone, I draw another blank.

I’ve saved the photograph with my parents in the background in an encrypted file; I open it on my screen and zoom in on their faces again. They look happy. Relaxed. Cushioned by their wealth and their love for one another despite the dangers that walk hand-in-hand with being a mafia don.

I still miss them. I miss my mom’s smile, and her favorite Estee Lauder perfume, and how she always knew when something was bothering one of her children. Even when we were grown up and finding our own way in the world. I miss my dad’s booming laughter, and his fantastical stories about Mick Jagger and Frank Sinatra and Elizabeth Taylor. I miss how safe I felt whenever I went home.

I half-fill a brandy glass and knock back the liquid. It does nothing to erase the frustration building inside me. I will find Steve Barone if it’s the last thing I do.

Then, I spot another familiar face behind my mom in the image on the screen.

A retired don. A man who, when I was finding my feet in the mafia world, was like a second father to me. I quickly switch tabs and am flooded with relief when I learn that he is still alive.

It has been far too long; entirely my fault.

Don Calderone is not the kind of man who will discuss business over the phone or via email. He has always insisted on meeting face-to-face.

I call my pilot and ask him to arrange the next slot out of NewYork City and into Palermo Falcone Borsellino Airport in Sicily.

That night, when Amber is tucked up safely in bed, Meggie drags some blankets into the living room and creates a makeshift bed in front of the window overlooking the city skyline. The sun is sinking behind the horizon creating a skeletal shape of towers and landmarks silhouetted against a backdrop of mauve and gray.

With this relentless need to keep nature in sight, she is like a wild creature, desperate not to be tamed.

“Do you ever feel as if the world is closing in on you?” She stretches out beside me, a glass of red wine in her hand. “I mean, do you find the city claustrophobic?”

I swallow a large mouthful of wine. “Whenever I feel like the city is too loud, I close my eyes and think of home.”