My bag and jacket are hanging where I left them after my trip to the closed bodega, and I shove them both on quickly. My hand grazes the phone in the pocket, and I absently check the notifications.
Thirteen missed calls from: Cassandra Moretti.
I sigh, lock my phone again, and head toward the back door—a very bad day.
This happens every week or so. I’ve known Cas since we were kids so it’s not surprising she’s taking my absence so badly. But it’s not like I’m hiding from her. She knows where I work.
I just…need to lay low for a while.
I’d warned her to stay away from the Guild, but she got involved anyway.Marriedinto it actually. Which is fine; she’s an adult. Bully for her, I guess, falling in love like that.
But my best friend didn’t have to grow up with the threat of the mafioso hanging over her like I did. She didn’t have to train herself for the eventuality that one day, someone might say the wrong thing and get your entire family killed.
The only reason I stuck around in the first place was to protect my dad. But now…
“If I don’t give you a position in the Guild, people are going to think you’re a liability.”
“How much time do I have?”
“A week, maybe.”
My last conversation with the Guild’s don, Teo Vitale, happened months ago. And living on borrowed time is utterly exhausting.
I pass Danny on my way out, leaning against the wall with a cigarette between her fingers. She gives me a nod when she registers me before her eyes glaze over again.
Yeah. No one wants to live under the Guild’s thumb.
I collapse into bed the second I enter my tiny studio apartment tucked away in the corner of Brighton Beach. It’s just far enough away from the tourist rabble to make my commute to work bearable.
It takes me a minute to realize there’s something hanging from my closet door that wasn’t there before.
I blink, then blink again. Nope, still there.
The sequined, floor-length, rose-gold dress accompanied by matching red-heeled shoes still very much exists within my mess of an apartment—throwing light around the room like a ludicrously expensive disco ball.
There’s only one person with both the finances and the means of entry to have delivered this. My suspicions are confirmed when my eyes snag on the note attached to the hanger.
Dinner, 7:30 PM.
I groan. There’s an address scrawled on the back, and it doesn’t look like it’s anywhere in the same realm as my beloved bodega.
Trust my father to force me to come to some fancy ass restaurant on my one day off.
But that’s a problem for future Mia Chiavari. Right now, my only priority is to sleep off this stupidly awful day and pray that whatever karma has decided to make my life so hellish has blown over by the time I wake up again.
“You look incredible, honey,” Marco Chiavari greets me on the stairs leading up to the hotel.
It’s been a while since I’ve had to wear heels like this, so I find myself staggering slightly as I greet my father.
He’s dressed quite handsomely himself, not that I’d ever admit it to his face. The old codger has more pride than a pack of lions, and it has become my sworn duty as his only daughter to keep him humble.
“We couldn’t have just stayed in and gotten take out?” I grumble as I kiss him on both cheeks.
“This is important, Mia.”
I pull away from his embrace in response to his tone, finally registering the guarded look in his eyes. “What is it?”
“I just love you. Very much.”
