Page 23 of Effortless

Camilla loved ‘em, and left ‘em. Or rather, she made a guy love her, and then walked away with a smile.

Tom was willing to risk it.

Besides, he was already in too deep now. Why back out?

“Oh,” Cross added after a minute as he waved to the corpse in the corner, “and don’t mention this whole thing here to my father. He doesn’t need the stress at the moment, you know? He’s got enough to deal with. I’ll let him know when the time is right.”

“Deal.”

Tom stared at the open door of the restaurant’s office, and realized the reason he wanted to stuff his hands as deep as he could into his pockets was because he was nervous. Fucking nervous. Like a kid.

Sure, it wasn’t often he approached a girl’s father for permission to date her, but this wasn’t exactly the same. Camilla wasn’t just any woman. She was the daughter of a Cosa Nostra boss, and if this life had taught Tom anything, it was that respect happened to be king of every room.

Even in New York.

He shook the nerves off, stepped up, and knocked on the open door with two knuckles. “Hey, uh, boss. Could I chat with you for a minute?”

Calisto Donati look up from the work on his desk. The similarities between the Don and his daughter were obvious, but subtle. The same shaped eyes, and color. Warm, yet also cold in a blink.

Behind the large desk, Calisto’s eyes widened and his brow raised as he realized it was Tom knocking on his door. “Tommaso. I heard you were in town.”

“Dad thought I needed a break.”

“We all do occasionally. How is your father?”

“He’s Tommas Rossi. How do you think?”

Calisto laughed in a knowing way.

Because fuck yeah, everybody knew what Tommas Rossi could be like.

“As thick-headed and stubborn as ever, then.”

“He can be,” Tom said, smiling. “So do you have that minute, or …?”

“Come on in. Close the door.”

Tom did as he was told. The last time he had spoken to Calisto had been two years earlier during his nineteenth birthday. The Donati boss had been in Chicago for business, or something. Noting the curiosity burning in Calisto’s gaze, and how he leaned forward to rest his hands on the desk, Tom figured he should explain why he was there.

“Cross told me where I could find you today.” Tom tried not to get too comfortable in the chair. Just in case he had to bolt …

“I wondered how you found me. Now, I’m more curious as to why.”

Tom smiled, shifted again in the chair, and stuffed his hands deep in his pockets. Calisto didn’t seem to miss the nervous actions.

Christ.

He really needed to knock that off.

“Shit,” Calisto said. “Please don’t tell me you killed one of my guys, or some nonsense like that.”

Tom laughed, but he knew better than to mention the guy at the club that morning. Cross warned him not to, after all. He sobered and straightened in the chair. “No, nothing like that. But you know, depending on how this goes, make sure to tell my mother that I love her, and all that good shit.”

Calisto’s brow furrowed, and Tom stayed silent while the man cleared off his desk. When the man was done, and his attention was back on the conversation, Tom reminded himself that this wasn’t a big fucking deal. He didn’t need to be so damn nervous.

“All right,” Calisto said, “give me the bad news. Whatever it is.”

“Not that, either.” Tom sighed, and cracked another smile. “It’s just … I’m not used to needing to approach a girl’s father, you know? I don’t normally have to do that being who I am, and who my father is. Except you’re not like other men, you’re like my father, but here, in New York. And if someone approached my sisters before they went to Tommas—”