If Leon notices the note of desperation in my voice, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he opts to rub at his neck, wincing in pain as something clicks sharply.
“Sleep funny?”
He grimaces. “Something like that. I told Vitale to stop working on the casino, which riled him up a bit. He should be distracted by construction until we’re ready to strike.”
I stand a little taller. “I think you should give me one last chance.”
“How many last chances have I given you already?” he snaps back.
“I’m wearing him down, Leon. I know I am. At the bar the other day, he?—”
“The bar?” Leon glares at me. “You mean there was an incidentafterhe infiltrated my goddamn poker table?”
Damn it. “There was an opportunity, and I took it.”
Leon looks like he might hit something. “I am doing everything in my power to keep you safe, Issy. I can’t do that if you keep defying my orders.”
“I took the initiative.”
“You acted impulsively and without backup. That wasreckless.”
I glare at him, and he glares right back.
“Mom wouldn’t think so,” I retort.
This is undoubtedly the worst thing to say. His expression darkens, containing that dull anger that has existed within him for years. “She doesn’t value your life enough to care. Not as I do.”
“She is ourmother.”
“She is amachine,Issy,” he counters, exasperated. “And you’re just another cog in her schemes. I don’t like the way she uses you. I never have.”
“Then why don’t you just sell her out to the Guild and be done with it!”
The words hang in the air between us like a guillotine.
Finally, Leon sits. Exhausted. “Because it would kill you too.”
I have no words for that, so I turn on my heel and leave.
Ida Natali was never one to shy away from nice things.
In the months since my last visit, the safe house has become a shrine to overindulgence. The simple two-bedroom home in the suburbs now has, inexplicably, a conservatory extension at the back, as well as a maid to greet me at the door.
“Bambina!”My mother throws her arms wide as I’m escorted into the lounge.
Minimal, hideously expensive decor now graces every corner of the room. A large painting covers an entire wall, casting the space in tasteful cubism, and a single sheepskin rug attempts to stave off the cold of the matte grey floors.
Unlike Leon, her embrace is more than welcome. Dressed to perfection, even in loungewear, my mother holds me with the utmost care, as if I might break if she holds on too hard.
“What happened to lying low?” I tease as I pull away, gesturing to the maid and the extravagant changes to what was supposed to be an inconspicuous space.
“Willy next door is an architect,” Mother explains as she gestures for me to follow her into the kitchen. “I had him change a few things for me.”
I try my best not to roll my eyes at this. Of course, Mother managed to wrangle a man to do her bidding. We might be out in the sticks, but that’s never stopped her before.
“Can I get you a drink, my darling?”
I accept a bottle of water before wandering over to sit on her couch. The smooth leather barely dents under my weight. “I take it this isn’t from Anthropologie.”
