Page 56 of Pretty Lies

ELEVEN

“HEY,” came the quiet call from down the hall.

J lingered at the end of the hallway leading to the storage rooms of the restaurant. Half inside and half outside of the exit door at the end, the man pointed down their way. “Dad’s having breakfast in the private section whenever you’re ready.”

Then, J tipped his head to the side, gaze on only Della. “You got a minute, though?”

Della looked to Cory.

He shrugged. “Go ahead—I can chat with your father alone.”

He didn’t mind.

Seemed the Capo and Cory had shit to go over now. Respectfully, of course.

He was still a little bitter that no one thought to tell him the issue was a fucking ex of Della’s, who also just happened to be an old friend of his—they might not have known that, however—or anything really. A lot of information had been kept from Cory, and he didn’t like that at all. Too much, truthfully.

He wanted to know why.

“You sure?” Della asked. “I can handle—”

“Anything put in your path, I know. Go chat with your brother.”

The soft smile she shot him made Cory think that maybe he might be able to break through some of the walls this woman had erected around herself. He’d never really wanted to do that with anyone before … didn’t care to learn what made someone what and who they were at the end of the day.

But she did.

Cory didn’t know what to make of that.

“We’ll be out back,” J called down to him.

Cory nodded and then turned his attention to where it really needed to be. On the arched entryway that lead into the private dining section. The enforcer posted just beyond the doorway gave Cory a nod when he passed, not speaking a single word. That was fine with him—they were both there doing their jobs, and he didn’t care to make pleasantries while he did his. Inside the room that sported large bay windows with heavy, richly colored tapestries that overlooked the front street, he quickly found the man he was searching for.

Frankie Costello sat at the very end of a long dining table that was filled with chairs on either side of it, with his platter of breakfast spread in front of him. Currently, he was adding sugar to a black coffee and staring in Cory’s direction.

No smile.

Just waiting.

“Frankie,” Cory greeted.

Della’s father waved a hand with the steaming spoon he’d just used to stir his coffee. “Find a seat, if you like. Or stand. Your comfort isn’t my concern, but you’re welcome to it nonetheless.”

Huh.

Just like that, Frankie reminded Cory of the Outfit boss, Tommas. Maybe it was the demeanor of men in power that all had the same ring, but he heard it all the same.

“I don’t really need a seat. Spend most of my time on my feet, anyhow.”

Frankie chuckled and did smile a bit at that. “Ah, yes, Theo’s little protégé, hmm? The streets will always keep you running.”

That had Cory raising a brow. “Is that what all you made men call me when I can’t hear?”

The other man’s stare flicked up from his food to meet Cory’s. “It’s not meant to be a bad thing.”

Okay.

Cory still wasn’t sure how he felt about it.