Page 33
Um, sure.
It dawns on me that half the people behind the counter sneak glances at us through the window.
They try not to make it too obvious, but not very well.
So, he probably could get away with murdering me, too. He must be a phenomenal tipper indeed.
I wonder if this table just emptied from sheer luck. Or did they kick out whoever was sitting here to make sure Prince Luca would get his favorite seat?
“Guess that explains why you’re so popular,” I say.
He shrugs again.
Our order arrives like lightning a minute later.
I choose a delicate little pastry with heavenly red strawberries on top.
One bite pulls me out of mafia hell, if only for a second.
Sweet, powdery perfection.
For a hot second, my whole world becomes sugar, and not the brute across from me.
After the first wave of the sugar high hits my blood, I decide it might be better to just rip the bandage off.
“So, why are you doing this?” My voice sinks to a whisper. “Is this you, trying to send a message? Are you flexing by showing up at my grandfather’s place? I mean, I get it, I guess. But I promised I’d be q—”
“Quiet,” he finishes. He silences me with one look, his eyes so arctic. “I thought we went over this.”
I frown. “We did? Then why am I here?”
“Why do you think, dove?”
God, that nickname.
If he were anybody else, I’d smack it out of his mouth.
“You’re trying to intimidate me. That’s what you do.” I stick my chin up, pretending to be brave. “And guess what? It’s working. I wouldn’t ever dream of breathing one word about… you know.”
His lips quirk up and he points to the tray of pastries.
My eyes go to that thick metal ring he wears, the one with two black daggers. The gravestone design feels medieval. He must want the world to know his morals never evolved past the fifteenth century, too.
“You have a lot to learn, woman. When I’m intimidating people, I don’t buy them breakfast.”
I stare at him, confused.
“Okay, fine. You tell me… what is this about?”
He leans forward.
“I know you won’t say anything. For the record, I believe you. I still have to take the necessary precautions and verify you’re as good as your word. Particularly since you were roped into this business so unexpectedly. I can’t risk you causing me any unnecessary headaches.”
“This business? That’s what you call it?” This time, my tone silences him, but I can’t help it. The word tastes so bitter it lingers in the air as my voice falls to the lowest whisper. “That’s what you call your illegal organ harvesting?”
He looks around.
Maybe I said that too loudly, but I don’t care.
