Page 56 of Daddies of the Underworld

She’d never responded well to subterfuge, so point blank it was. “Sofia, what’s Friday?”

The blue crayon she’d been using clattered to the floor. “Take a father to school day.” She watched me, her gaze cautious enough to hurt my heart and soul. “Henry’s dad is a firefighter. He’s bringing hats for everyone.” She frowned at her paper. “I said maybe you could come. I’m the only one in my class without a dad.”

“Oh honey.” I crossed the kitchen and kissed the top of her head.

“Where’s my dad?”

The question landed in my middle with a resounding gurgle that matched the pasta sauce trying to boil over on the stove. I hurried over and turned down the heat, using the distraction to gather myself. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Not really.” Five years old and too smart for my cowardice.

I could have made up a lie years ago. I still could, but that had never sit right with me.

Five years and I didn’t have an answer to this one question. I wiped my hands on a towel and sat beside her. “Your father is far away.”

“Because he’s dead?”

“No.” I sat back hard enough the chair creaked. “What makes you say that?”

“Angela asked if my dad was dead and that’s why he never comes to school to pick me up. She said her friend Brandon’s dad died.”

My stomach clenched again. I could have said yes. Maybe it would be better if I did.

It would stop the questions, but it felt like a betrayal to everything that happened between Matteo, Dante, Luca, and me during that one wonderful month at Villa Belladonna. “Your father was part of my life before you were born. A life that was dangerous.” Okay, I definitely should not have said that.

Sofia had a tendency to tell things she shouldn’t, and if she thought this was some kind of interesting story, she’d tell everyone at school.

Her brows pulled together. “Dangerous like bad guys? Was my dad a bad guy?”

“No.” I couldn’t help remembering the way Matteo held me at night, the way Dante had kissed me or how Luca always tried to make me laugh. “Definitely not a bad guy.”

“Then why isn’t he here?” Her face changed, a deep hurt cutting in and tightening her eyes. “Did he want me?”

Well, I’d walked right into that one. My heart shattered for her, and I fell to my knees beside her chair, wrapping my arms around her and holding her close. “Yes, baby. Yes, he wanted you. We left so we could be safe. That’s what he wanted for us.”

I would tell her the full story someday, when she was old enough to understand. Right now, she just needed to know that she was loved and wanted.

And making her father out to be selfless felt like the right thing to do to prove that to her before she came up with some ridiculous notion that any of it had been her fault.

17

DANTE

Five years after Nina disappeared and I was still breaking men’s noses for saying her name in a tone that implied they still thought she was responsible for the missing money.

Not my finest moment. Not my worst either.

The forger hit the concrete beside a stack of shipping crates, one hand clamped over his face while blood slipped between his fingers. “Motherfucker.” He tried to keep cursing, but gagging on his own blood prevented him.

I didn’t bother shaking out my fist. It was too bruised, the knuckles too cracked, for that to help. I wiped the blood from my knuckles on his shirt before I crouched in front of him.

My knees cracked, and I cursed the fatigue and age breaking down my body. It was nothing on the emotional and mental load that shattered my heart and kept my mind focused on one thing: Find Nina.

Matteo had pulled me from every other task a month after Nina disappeared when it became evident I refuse to think about anything else. The man flinched when I rested my closed fist on my knee. “Again.”

His eyes watered, and he tried to breathe through his shattered nose. “I told you everything.”

I clicked my tongue at the lie. “You told me a woman bought documents from you a year ago. A woman named Nina Rosso.”