“A little over five hundred thousand,” Anastasio says as Sophie packs up the other clothes I bought. “That’s almost enough for him to care. Well done. Anything else you might like while we wait for your clothes?”
My stomach growls audibly when we reach the door. “How about some lunch?"
"Lunch it is," he says, and holds the door for me. “Let’s go.”
10
LYDIA
The restaurant isa few blocks away from the boutique, and over the plate of bread and sparkling water, I learned that Anastasio was much more personable than I’d ever thought him to be.
But as personable as he is, he also knows exactly how much information about my husband that he has to withhold from me.
For starters, I try my best to learn more about Nico’s childhood, and all Anastasio tells me is that he’s not at liberty to discuss.
So much for my plan.
But this has been a nice change of pace over the last two days, and I can almost–keyword, almost–ignore the guilt nipping at the edge of my conscience amidst the low hum of other people’s conversation lulling me into believing that I might actually be able to be invisible again.
Maybe that was why I didn’t see him at first.
I catch the familiar dark NYPD blue from the corner of my eye first, and the hair on the back of my neck rises slightly inwarning when his gym-built physique materializes through the crowd.
Where most men get fatter and lose themselves over seven years, my stepfather Frank has done the opposite. His face is still clean shaven, his blue eyes are still cold, and what remains of his hair is cleverly hidden underneath his cap.
“Lyddie?”
My stomach drops away at the sound of that familiar grating voice.
Slowly, I turn and see him standing next to my table. And all of a sudden, I’m a child again, listening behind my door with tears in my eyes to the sound of Mom begging while Frank and his friends laugh.
“I thought that was you,” he says as he looks at my new clothes. “How the hell does a girl like you get the money for those clothes?”
I don’t dare to meet his gaze as I cast my eyes down and pretend to pick at the bread.
“I asked you a question, Lyddie.”
Anastasio is already on his feet. He steps between us with his hands loose at his sides and his expression rearranging into that of a pitbull ready to do violence.
"This is a private lunch," he says. "I’m going to have to ask you to leave the lady alone, officer."
“That right?” Frank looks him up and down, his eyes stopping for a moment on Anastasio’s hands before he turns his shoulder to tap the OCCB badge. “You think you scare me, son?”
The Organized Crime Control Bureau–better known as OCCB–is where Frank has been working since he joined the force from day one. After he married Mom, not a day goes by that he doesn’t brag about another organized crime family that he and his friends busted.
And from how Anastasio’s eyes narrow at that badge without a response, it seems like Anastasio knows that of all the cops in New York City, Frank Carpenter might be the only one that can cause real problems for the D’Ambrosio Family.
“Now that you know who you’re fucking with.” Frank’s voice remains pleasant. “How about you fuck off and give me a moment to talk to my daughter.”
Anastasio doesn’t move.
“Now.” The pleasantness disappears from Frank’s voice.
“Anastasio,” I say quietly. “Go wait by the car. I’ll come find you in a bit.”
He looks from me to Frank. When he sees that neither of us is going to change our minds, he gives me a small nod and walks away, making sure to shoulder-check Frank in the process as he reaches for his phone.
“Smart kid.” Frank snickers as he sits down and pops a piece of bread in his mouth. “Friend of yours?”
