I narrow my eyes. “I’m not offering a repeat performance.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
But I notice the flicker of interest in his eyes before he regains control of himself. “I’m here to apologize,” he continues.
“Apologize.”
“You see, I was quite drunk last night.”
“You were quite drunk.”
“Is there a parrot in here?”
“I’m just trying to understand how you feel this piece of information is relevant,” I counter. “I wasn’t drunk last night, and as I recall, you did very little other than get all hot and bothered.”
His jaw drops open, much to my satisfaction.
I watch him for a moment before pointedly gazing at the plate of pastries in his hand. He immediately scrambles to push the meal over to me.
Dante clears his throat. One small gesture away from tugging at the collar of his shirt. “So, did you…manage to…”
“I think I could use some further instruction.”
9
DANTE
The video call connects with a faint crackle, and Rocco’s face comes into view, his usual Brooklyn bravado tempered by exhaustion.
“Well, if it isn’t the handsomest prince in the castle,” he teases as he shuffles close to the camera.
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, my voice clipped. “It’s all wine and sunshine here. What’s the situation?”
Rocco sighs, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “Same as last week. Hell, same as yesterday.”
“You look like shit,” I comment because it’s absolutely true.
“Thanks, buddy. The Guild’s barely holding the line. The Cartel’s got us pinned down in Red Hook, and word is Amos Rubio’s getting bolder. It’s like he knows we’re stretched thin, and he’s hitting us where it hurts."
“And Leon?” I ask, though I already know the answer.
“He’s got his eye on the long game, waiting for the perfect trade.” His voice turns tired. “Which means we get to keep fighting his war while you babysit his bargaining chip.”
I try not to wince at that. “Carmen isn’t the problem, Rocco.”
“Yeah, well, her old man is. Rubio’s not backing down, and Leon knows it. We’ve got the princess, but Rubio still hasn’t taken the bait, and we’re running out of time, Dante. And out of people.”
The silence stretches, heavy and sharp.
I should be thankful for these little reality checks, something to ground me to what is actually at stake. That there are people out there fighting a fucking war while I’m out courting bachelorettes and trying not to imagine Carmen’s flushed face when she…
“What about a timeline?” I ask, forcing myself to focus. “When’s Leon going to make his move?”
Rocco shakes his head. “No word. He’s keeping things close to the vest. You know how he is. But I’ll tell you this—he’s not trading Carmen unless it gives him a clean shot at taking Rubio down. That could mean weeks. Or months.”
“Months?”
The word threatens to choke me. How the hell am I supposed to manage this thing with Carmen formonths?
