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That was, what, ten weeks or so?
I could deal with that.
Even if it wasn't the "cake job" that Ciro claimed it might be.
Ten weeks wasn't that long at all.
"That seems... fair," Ciro agreed, nodding. "We will let Lorenzo know."
"Good. I have to go get some shit handled," I said, getting up, and grabbing my bag.
I didn't pay.
They wouldn't let me.
"If you could find a halfway pleasant personality trait to pack, that would be great," Gio teased, giving me a smile that showed off those dimples of his.
"Now, you know that is asking for far too much," I told him, walking off to the sound of my brothers' chuckles.
Really, I had nothing to handle.
I just wanted to go take a walk, get my head straight, try to wrap it around this new—yet temporary—reality of mine.
Maybe I could use it as an opportunity to get in on the good side of Santiago and possibly even Lorenzo if he was around. If Lorenzo would approve of me being a part of the Family, my father and brothers would have no reason to doubt it any longer either.
That was my plan as I went back to my shoebox apartment, bare-boned and pathetic as it was, grabbed a duffle bag, and shoved some changes of clothes and basic essentials into it.
I had nothing else to handle.
No pets to make arrangements for.
No plants to have a neighbor come over and water.
No friends to bid goodbye to for the time being.
So I just hung back, bag ready, until it was time to start my new job.
For the elusive Santiago Costa.
And his kid.
Whatever his name was.
Cake.
It would be cake.
Or so I thought at the time.
Chpater Three
Santi
"What are you so antsy about?" Lorenzo asked, looking up from his phone as I paced around the kitchen, wishing there was a spare dish to put away or a crumb to sweep off the counter.
"I don't know how this is going to go over," I admitted.
"It'll be fine."
"Says a man who doesn't have a grieving son to worry about."
"Ottavio will be fine. I hear Alessa is very capable."
Very capable.
Not exactly a glowing recommendation. What was she like? Matronly? Motherly? Did she cook? Would she know the right things to say to my son who was starting to worry me? Would she be able to help drag him out of his depression?
Or would she just be a body in the house, a constant annoyance that neither helped nor truly hindered, but someone I would have to deal with regardless?
"What do you mean hear? Haven't you ever met her?"
"In passing, here or there. It's not like we're related to the Morellis, Santi. I don't see them at Sunday dinners or anything."
Yeah, I guess that made sense.
Hell, I couldn't even name all the Morelli brothers anymore. I'd only really ever known Gio. But there were several others.
"What time is it?" I asked since he was glued to his phone.
"She's got ten minutes still. Where's my nephew?" he asked.
All I'd gotten from him was a grumble when I told him there were bagels. Then he'd waited until I was in the shower to rush out and grab one.
"He hasn't been feeling social," I said, shrugging.
"Does he even know she's coming?"
"Yeah."
Sort of.
I'd told him that I was bringing someone in to be around on the evenings that work ran late, but he'd been rushing back off toward his room so fast that I wasn't even sure he'd heard me.
"There she is," he said when there was a buzz at the intercom. Emilio immediately let her up, leaving me to feel like I was sweating through my shirt as I waited to meet the woman who would be taking care of my son when I wasn't around, the woman I had to trust with the most important person in my life.
I don't know what I was expecting.
But the tall, fit woman with her brown hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, wearing black utility pants and a white tee under a black leather jacket, with combat boots and not a stitch of makeup on, looking all of seventeen—the attitude included—was not it.
"Is she even old enough to babysit?" I grumbled to my brother.
"She is even old enough to rent a car," Alessa said, arching her brow up at me.
"You'll forgive my brother," Lorenzo said, moving forward. "He has no manners," he added, tucking his phone away to reach his hand out toward the woman.
She eyed it for a second before taking it and giving it a rough shake.
"I won't hold it against him. I've been accused of the same thing," she said, giving him the ghost of a smile.
"I really appreciate you coming. And on such short notice. I know you're valuable to your father," Enz said, and something crossed the woman's eyes at his words. It was gone too quickly for me to analyze it, though. "This is my brother, Santiago," he said, turning to wave a hand at me. "Santi, this is Alessa Morelli."
