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She screws up her adorable nose and says, “Five thousand for a suit? I need to take you shopping.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m sure I’d rather have my teeth pulled.”
“So, this is how you unwind?” She nods to my workout attire.
I swallow a mouthful of biscuit and soup. “Yes.”
“Always in control.” It’s not a question.
Our eyes meet across the table. “You have to remain in control. Always. That’s how it is. I have hundreds, sometimes thousands, of staff, if they see me lose it, what does that say about me as a leader?”
“Doesn’t send a good message. The captain is always in control of his ship,” she says.
“So, what ship do you command when you’re not being kidnapped and rescued by the Italian mafia?” I ask her quite seriously.
I am supposed to be getting intel…
She smiles a little. “I’m a fashion designer. I’m currently studying for my Master’s degree. I’ve been working ever since I first graduated from college for a design company. This year I decided to go return to school for my Masters.”
“Do you plan on creating your own designs someday?”
“Maybe someday.” She nods. “I’ve just been gaining experience in the business and juggling more study. I worked full-time for a year doing an internship. Going back to school was the next step.”
“It seems like you know what you want, that’s good experience at a young age.”
“Do you like what you do?” she asks after a moment.
Nobody’s ever asked me that question.
“I love business,” I say honestly. “I grew up in it and around it. I learned my forte early on and I had the best people around me. I was lucky.”
“What about … the other side of things?”
I glance at her over my bowl. She’s talking about mafia business.
“I don’t get a choice in that, but I wouldn’t change things,” I say. “Look at the lifestyle I have. The city is safer, and Angelo and my Uncle Mario spent many years driving the scum out of this city.”Like your family.
“But it’s dangerous,” she says. “Don’t you ever worry?”
“I do worry. Things happen, but it’s the price you pay. You know what it’s like when you’re born into something.”
“I don’t accept what I was born into like you,” she says, surprising me. “It’s more difficult for me. I’m the daughter of an important Petrov, that’s all it is. I get no say in my life.”
I’m puzzled by her statement.
I sit back to glance down the table at her. “What do you control?”
“Nothing,” she admits. My anger rises. “I have the perks of any rich girl, I’m not complaining. My uncle, especially, has looked after me. I’m kept out of the family business, but it's never been easy, because there’s always that threat. And look what happened just recently. I was almost sold to a sex trafficking ring.”
She shudders, and it just hits me at how terrifying that must have been for her, for Mia, for any woman.
I contemplate her words carefully. I don’t want to delve into anything to do with the Familia, but it needs to be said. “I’m sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that.”
She doesn’t say anything more, and we finish our soup in silence.
Clary comes to take our bowls away and pours us both another glass of wine. I’m glad there’s some easy banter, at last. This is the most real I’ve seen her yet.
“Is it alright if I call my girlfriend after dinner?” she asks me quietly when our main course is served.
