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She sounds fucking proud of that. “Angelica, how old were you when you started doing jobs for your father?” T asks.
“Fifteen.” She shrugs. “It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know. Gio came to me and told me my papa was in danger. I had to do this one job to protect him. So I did.”
“Fucking hell, you were a little girl. You shouldn’t have had anything to do with the family business yet,” I yell.
“It wasn’t. My father’s. Fault. He. Didn’t. Know.” I grind out my words. “For a year, I kept taking jobs. Then, when Papa found out, he tried to stop me. But I didn’t want to stop. Don’t you get it? I like what I do.”
“Okay. Let’s focus on how we can find this fucker and get rid of him.”
“Why would Papa tell me he was dead if he wasn’t?” Angelica asks, as if lost in thought.
“Perhaps he believed he was. We don’t know how long Gio was working against your father,” I tell her.
“Maybe. Gio was my father’s right-hand man, the underboss. He was like an uncle to me my whole life. Why would he do this to us?”
“Angel, tell us what you know about this guy. Let’s start with a name,” I urge her.
“Stephen—Stephen Gambini,” she says.
“Okay, I’ll get my guy to dig up anything and everything he can on this Stephen.” I exit out of the video feed and spot a scanned image attached to the email from my PI. Clicking on it, I see a drawing. It’s the drawing Izzy was working on this morning. It’s a picture of her standing between her mom and me. She labeled the image: Mom, Izzy, Neo. I hit print and retrieve the paper from the printer. I don’t bother saying anything as I walk out and head for the kitchen.
The room is pristine. As always. White counters with dark oak cabinets and stainless steel appliances greet me as I cross the threshold. Taking the picture, I attach it to the fridge with a magnet. It’s the only thing hanging there and looks so out of place. But this one picture is the first step in turning this house into a home.
I go about pulling food from the fridge. We didn’t get to eat the breakfast I ordered and I need to feed my girls. They have to be starving by now.
“What are you doing?” Angelica asks, staring at the picture attached to the fridge.
“Cooking breakfast. You and Izzy gotta eat,” I respond.
“Why? Why are you doing all this, Neo? What are you trying to achieve here?” she asks. I look behind her but don’t see Theo. “He went back to the room with Holly and Izzy,” she answers my unspoken question.
“What am I doing? I don’t fucking know. I’m out of my depth here, Angel. You need to give me some leeway until I learn the ropes properly.”
“What? What ropes?”
“The ropes of being your partner, the ropes of being a father to an eight-year-old girl. Because as much as I don’t know what I’m doing, I do know I can’t stop. I can’t fucking let you go. I can’t go back, Angel.”
“No. I can’t. You know I can’t do this. This can’t be a permanent thing, Neo,” she says, though her argument’s weak at best.
“It can and it is. If you want to run, fine, I’ll run with you. In fact, the idea is becoming more and more appealing every minute that passes.”
“You don’t mean that. You can’t leave. They’ll kill you.”
“And what do you think will happen to you, to Izzy, if you take off?” I fire back.
“They’ll forget about me. I’m just a spoiled mafia princess. You’re the underboss, Neo. There is no getting out for you. Besides, you don’t evenwantout.”
“What I want is you. You and Izzy. That’s what I want. I’ll do whatever I have to, to get that. To get our happily ever after. Because, in my story, the villains come out on top, babe.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do. Let’s make a deal. Let’s stay here. Work together to sniff out that fucking rat. And put a stop to whatever the fuck this Stephen fucker wants with our little girl. Then, after all of that is settled, if you still want to escape, I promise I’ll make it happen for us.”
She’s quiet. She doesn’t answer for a long moment, and I feel the burn in my chest as I hold my breath, waiting for her to refuse me again. To refuseusagain. “Okay, you have a deal. But don’t you dare leave me out of anything because I’m a girl. If you do, I’ll cut your balls off and ram them down your throat.”
I smile. “God, I love it when you talk dirty to me, Angel.” It takes one step to sweep her into my arms before picking her up and sitting her on the bench. I step between her legs and take her face in the palms of my hands. My lips don’t slam onto hers. They slowly, gently connect with the plumpness of her lips.
I don’t ravish her like I want. I take my time. Exploring every crevice of her mouth with my tongue. Enjoying the softness she returns in this kiss.
