“I want to.” Of course I do. Sandro saved my life. “Where is it?”
“Back in New York.” Nero sighs.
“Won’t Maksim find out we went to Rafe’s?”
“It’s not at his house. They rented out Sandro’s favorite bar for it. Even if Maksim is watching us, no one will think twice about me attending a party in honor of the man who was forced out with me. There will be plenty of people there.”
I reach over and squeeze Nero’s hand. “Then let’s go.”
CHAPTER 30
NERO
Blake and I head out a few hours after breakfast the next morning.
On the drive, Blake asks me to tell her more about Sandro. Who he was in New York and what kind of work he did. What he was known for. What friends he had.
I surprise myself with the near encyclopedic knowledge I have on the kid. I guess we talked a lot in those first few months in Darkwater Hollow. We learned a lot about each other.
“How did you meet him in the first place?” Blake asks after a good hour of me telling her all sorts of stories about him.
“Rafe and I found Sandro driving in an illegal street race when he was just a fourteen-year-old kid.” I chuckle. “He was driving one of the shittiest-looking cars, and he still won. The guy who came in second place was running his mouth that night, saying he was going to make sure Sandro never showed his face there again. Before that could go anywhere, I just grabbed Sandro and told him I had a job for him. One where he wouldn’t get killed fordriving well, and where he could earn enough in a few years to get whatever car he wanted. He just grinned and said,"Sign me up, boss.’”
“He would've followed you anywhere after that, huh?”
I take in a deep breath, my emotions swelling. “I didn’t expect him to agree to leave with me. Not that Rafe asked, to be honest, but Sandro didn’t make a big deal out of it. He got on board and drove me all the way to Missouri, and he was fucking cheerful through it all.”
Blake sniffles. When I glance over, she’s wiping under her eyes.
“We don’t need to keep talking about him if you don’t want to,” I say softly.
“No, I’m glad we are. I feel like in the midst of everything that happened right after he died, I haven’t had a chance to process his death.” She gives me a watery smile, and it just fucking kills me. “I hope he ended up somewhere nice.”
I swallow past the ball in my throat and turn back to face the road. “Yeah. Me too.”
The party is happening at a bar called San Marco. I drive past the front door and the neon sign that hangs above it and go around to park at the back.
The place’s got a Venetian theme. Blake and I enter through the back door and walk down a hallway that’s been done up to resemble a canal. The tiles on the floor are the color of water, and on the walls, there are gondolas painted against the backdrop of Venetian homes.
It’s kitschy and fun and unpretentious. Sandro preferred places like this to the glitzy restaurants he often drove Rafe and me to.
When we step into the main room, heads turn in our direction. First just one, then two, then the rest follow. It takes a few seconds, but all the conversations soon quiet.
My grip on Blake’s hand tightens as I stare at the faces of the men who used to call me boss.
A few meet my gaze head-on and even grin, but others look down at their feet, like they’re scared to see what’s become of me. Funny. I still look the same—at least, I think I do—but sometimes, the way we’re perceived has nothing to do with our appearance.
There’s subtext swirling through the air.
A fallen god walks among us.
The crowd parts for Rafe. He walks up to me with measured steps, Cleo a few paces behind him. The silence is nearly absolute, broken only by the shuffling of feet against the worn tile floors. Rafe stops in front of me. His expression gives nothing away, but his eyes speak to me, just the way they always have.
Right now, they’re saying,I wish things were different.
I shrug, a small movement only he’ll notice.It is what it is.
He offers me his hand. “Glad you made it.”
