Bellanti? A car? He’s talking about Dante’s father.
His death wasn’t an accident.
My scalp tingles, my muscles freezing even as something inside screams at me to get out before my father finds me eavesdropping here in the hallway. Covering my mouth with my hand, I tiptoe back the way I came. Screw the socks.
Heart pounding, almost dizzy with adrenaline and the force of my pulse, I carry my shoes out to the waiting car, still barefoot, barely aware of Donovan opening the door for me as I slip into the back seat and try not to vomit.
Enzo Bellanti was murdered.
And my father was somehow involved.
16
Frankie
The parking lotat Bella Notte is full when we arrive.Donovan circles the lot a few times and then tells me he’ll park in the fire lane so he can keep an eye on the restaurant while I’m in there. Apparently the possibility of a parking ticket isn’t any kind of threat to the Bellantis’ driver.
I called Charlie on the way over to ask her to meet me here for dinner. I have no idea what to do with the information I just stumbled onto, but there’s no way I can carry this alone. My father is a…a what?
A murderer? An accessory to murder? A criminal mastermind?
I can’t prove any of that, of course, or even ascertain that he was directly involved in Enzo Bellanti’s death. But he did spill that the accident wasn’t an accident at all, and he claims to know who arranged the fatal details. Someone in my father’s close circle dirtied their hands to kill a man. Fear razors down my spine and I’m not sure I can get out of the car.
“Sorry for keeping you out all day.” I stumble over the words as Donovan comes around to open the rear door for me. He frowns at the distress I’m doing a shitty job at hiding.
“I’m happy to be of service, Mrs. Bellanti.”
“I’ll, um, just have a quick bite with my sister and—”
“Madam, please.” He lightly touches my wrist. “Take all the time you’d like, and enjoy your evening. It’s no trouble at all.”
Glancing into his kind eyes, I nod. “Thanks, Donovan.”
I wonder what he’s seen, what he’s heard in his time with the Bellantis. It would probably make the information I’m carrying look like child’s play. What’s worse? Being exposed to such heinous behavior for the first time, or being exposed so often that you finally become immune?
I’ll never let myself become that person. Charlie’s husband is involved in things she knows enough to stay out of, but even so, I hope the exposure by proxy doesn’t harden her to these things, either. We simply cannot turn out like our father.
Once I’m inside, I remember I’m not really dressed for this place in my jeans and blouse, my sneakers and no socks. But the hostess gives me the most welcoming smile anyway, as if I’m dressed to the ninesandhave a reservation.
“Mrs. Bellanti! How very nice to see you again.”
I can’t place her beaming face, so if we’ve met, I have no recollection of it. She seems to know me, though. “Um, thank you.”
“May I offer you a table this evening?” she asks.
“Actually, yes. I need a private booth. Sorry I didn’t call ahead.”
She scrunches her nose in a cute little way. “You never need to call, Mrs. Bellanti. Your family’s table is always available to you.”
Family table? Okay. I guess it’s just another perk of being a Bellanti. Who am I to argue? Especially when I need to sit down and have a damn drink. I follow the woman to the back, but don’t get far before a couple I don’t recognize calls out to me.
“Nice to see you this evening, Mrs. Bellanti.”
“Such a pretty blouse!”
I smile and nod, walk a couple feet, and get stopped again. I recognize this couple, at least. They were the ones who scowled and turned their noses up at me when I met Dante here.I’m receiving a much warmer reception now, however.
“Oh, Francesca. Marriage is looking good on you!” the woman simpers.
