Page 28 of Married to the Enemy

“You failed me,” Vito announced, his voice alarmingly quiet.

Barry swallowed. “Sir, I didn’t know that your daughter was in town, and I had no idea that she’d convince the court that she could handle guardianship. Had I known—”

“You should have known,” Vito interrupted, his tone deadly calm. “Your job was to keep the old woman contained. Doped up. Harmless.” He paused, letting the stupid manager understand the impact of his failure before continuing. “At first, she looked appropriately pathetic, which was your mission!” Vito snarled. “But once Mia showed up, whatever it was you snuck into the old woman’s drink this morning didn’t last!” Vito leaned forward, bracing his fists on the polished table. “In fact, my mother-in-law looked more alive than she has in years.” This was spoken in a low, dangerous tone. “She smiled, Trello.” He sneered. “She smiled at me.”

Barry’s lips parted, then closed again, a bead of sweat dripping from his temple onto the lapel of his wrinkled suit jacket.

Vito came around the table slowly, deliberately, until he stood nose to nose with the smaller man. “You had one task.” He paused and breathed in. “ONE!” He exhaled, shaking his head. “And you failed.”

“I’ll fix it,” Barry babbled, his voice shaking. “I’ll—I'll find a way to—”

Vito’s hand lashed out, striking Barry hard across the face. The sound cracked through the dining room, louder than the clock chimes. Barry stumbled, clutching his cheek, but he didn’t fall. He knew better than to fall.

“Get out,” Vito ordered, his voice low. “And fix it. If Evangeline dies or disappears before I can get the beneficiaries in her will changed, or if I lose one more bit of control because of your incompetence, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

Barry nodded frantically, bowing and scraping as he backed out of the room.

When the door shut behind him, Vito poured another bourbon and lifted it in a mock toast to the empty room.

He would get his money. One way or another.

Chapter 16

Mia shuffled into the kitchen, yawning so wide her jaw popped while dragging her dark, messy hair off her shoulders. “Good morning, Nonna,” she mumbled, making a beeline for the coffee maker. “I was going to—”

Evangeline was already there, enthroned in her wheelchair like a general commanding troops as she grabbed the coffee carafe before Mia understood what was going on. She poured steaming coffee into a travel mug and shoved it into Mia’s hands before she could finish her sentence. “You have ten minutes to shower and get dressed, dear.”

Mia blinked down at the mug. Her brain felt as if it had been left out in the cold overnight, slow and sticky. She’d only fallen asleep three hours ago, after tossing and turning, punching her pillow, groaning into the dark. Her thoughts had circled and circled—what it would feel like to slip into Raffe’s room in the middle of the night, slide into his bed, and snuggle in against him. What would it be like to let someone else’s strength shelter her after the storm of yesterday? Oh, how deliciously reckless it could have been.

Now Nonna was talking about ten minutes and…something?

“What?” Mia squinted, trying to summon her sluggish brain into coherence. “I’m sorry, Nonna, but why the rush?” Mia smothered another yawn, her non-coffee-holding hand going to her hair to push it out of her eyes. Again. “I think we should talk about yesterday and figure out a plan for—”

“No time,” Evangeline interrupted briskly, her voice carrying the authority of someone who had survived both motherhood and the mafia. “You’re down to nine minutes.” She wheeled herself over to the pantry, opened it with surprising force, and pulled out granola bars to stuff into her purse.

Mia stared. “Granola?”

“Emergency provisions,” her grandmother replied primly, then ruined the effect with a wicked grin. “Doctors always run late, and I don’t intend to faint from hunger while we wait.”

She wheeled back, her eyes sparkling. “Hurry up! Raffe and Freddy left for the surgeon’s office already. We need to be there, if only for support!”

“Freddy has a doctor’s appointment today?” she gasped. “Why didn’t Raffe mention it last night?”

“Because, my darling, men like that don’t share details unless they must. He didn’t want to burden us.” She shook her head in disgust. “Men suck at asking for help.”

Okay, she had a point there. But…had her sweet, seventy-five-year-old nonna just said, “suck”? “But…!” Mia began, then broke off and spun around, her voice sharp with outrage as her grandmother’s words finally registered. “Freddy isn’t a burden, damn it!”

Nonna’s approving hum followed her as she bolted down the hallway and back up the stairs.

Mia jumped into the shower, shivering as icy water hit her skin. She scrubbed fast, barely dried, yanked on her only clean pair of jeans and a warm sweater. The rest of her clothes were still packed in her tote bag—she hadn’t planned on staying long in Minnesota when she’d first arrived.

A dress was out of the question because the only one she owned was her “wedding dress” from yesterday, and seeing Raffe in the same outfit as yesterday was simply not going to happen.

She shoved her feet into her flats, scooped up the forgotten mug of coffee, her tote, and her keys, then dashed back down the stairs.

Evangeline was already installed in the passenger seat of the car, purse strapped across her body and determination burning in her eyes. Her folded wheelchair leaned awkwardly beside the car, half-collapsed.

Mia sighed, finished folding the chair, and shoved it into the backseat.