Page 26 of Pretty Lies

“Stay a bit, Ma,” Della spoke up, drawing in her father’s sharp eye. “I’ve barely been here fifteen minutes.”

Chloe gave her daughter a smile from the side that said she knew exactly what Della was attempting to do. The longer her mother stayed for brunch, the less she would have to talk to her father about business … and everything else that would surely follow. They didn’t talk shop with her ma around, and right now, she’d prefer that.

Even if she was still curious about what her brother had said earlier.

“Maybe, had you gotten up earlier,” Chloe returned, “we could have had a long breakfast.”

Damn her mom. And Chloe’s all-knowing motherly senses, as she liked to call it. She kind of loved her mom for it, too.

“Later,” Chloe said to Frankie.

“Have a good time, sweetheart.”

Under his breath beside her, J muttered, “I could go for a wine tasting this afternoon with the Outfit boss’s wife instead of sitting here, too, but you know.”

“Shut up. I could literally stab you under the table—my blade is right there in my bag.”

Within reach, too.

Childish?

Yes.

At this point, who cared?

By the time her father had walked Chloe out of the restaurant and returned to the table, he wasn’t alone. Jennika accompanied him, her smile growing at the sight of the food spread out across the large table in the private dining section of one of three restaurants her father owned in the city.

“Yes, I’m starved,” her friend said, dropping into the seat Della’s mother had vacated earlier. She reached for a croissant and an already-poured glass of orange juice that Chloe hadn’t touched before adding, “Your text woke me up, thanks.”

Della grinned, not at all sorry. “Since when are you not up before me anyway?”

“Sometimes. It was a good night.”

Laughter passed around the table.

It wouldn’t last long.

With that slept-in makeup look that women spent hours desperately trying to copy and a high, messy pony, Jennika didn’t look at all tired or bothered to be there. She wore a long trench coat overtop a dress that looked more appropriate for a club than this place. Not that her friend, or anyone else at the table, really cared. Della just took note of it because well, when her friend went out the night before, usually she’d give her a call.

But she hadn’t last night.

Who knew?

Maybe her friend had a new guy—despite chasing after Della’s brother, she still enjoyed male company in between. Good for her.

“New plan,” Frankie said, reclaiming his seat and the coffee he’d set aside to see his wife out. “On the work side of things, of course. I’m not taking any risks over the next little bit while we feel this out and look for information. If it was business, it might have been a one-time thing. If it was gang-related—”

“It wasn’t Luis,” Della said in a sigh.

Across the table, her father’s dark gaze landed on her. Another day, and the sight of that might have been enough to keep her quiet. Maybe it was the lack of sleep making her foolish, but she kept talking.

“Is he trash? Yeah. He’s not exactly the kind of trash who would come after me for telling him to fuck off somewhere.”

Or, that’s what she liked to think. Yeah, his pride was hurt. He would get over it. She was just a woman, and God knew he had dozens of those. Luis wouldn’t put that much effort into sending a woman who rejected him a message like the one delivered to Della through a baseball bat to the head.

“I’m not so sure,” her father returned, his tone measured. A good sign that he wasn’t pleased but was still doing his best to keep it contained. “Nonetheless, because of his connections to other gangs in the city that have been problematic to the Outfit, I would rather not test the theory which means we’re going to keep your involvement with him on the low.”

“Previous involvement,” she put in strongly.