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The curtain parted and Vinnie stepped into the room. “Tony’s on the phone, boss.”
Primo looked up, a shadow passing over his features. “What does he want?”
Vinnie shifted nervously on his feet. It was a familiar response to Primo’s questioning, everyone on his crew tiptoeing around him, waiting to see if he would play the part of benevolent master or cruel overlord.
“Something about Cavallo moving in on a job in Rockaway. He’s swearing up a storm,” Vinnie said.
Primo rose with a sigh, touching Aria’s head gently as he passed. “Wait here and we’ll discuss the upgrades to the club.”
She tensed as he crossed the room, the curtains falling back over the doorway as he stepped into the hall with Vinnie. Normally she would have made an excuse to leave along with him to avoid being alone with Malcolm, but there was still work to do on the interior of the club, improvements Aria had designed that hadn't been included in the first round of renovations. She’d mentioned them to Primo when they’d had dinner alone last week, hoping for a project to keep her busy during the long winter months when she wouldn’t be able to work at the garden. Now she was Malcolm’s captive audience, forced to wait or issue an excuse that would make it obvious she was uncomfortable around him.
She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
She pulled out her phone in an effort to avoid making conversation, but she’d barely unlocked the screen when he spoke.
“I haven’t seen you in awhile,” he said. “Where have you been keeping yourself?”
She looked up, resisted the impulse to shrink away from his gaze. He looked at her like she was a piece of cake, something he may or may not want. Something he may savor or devour depending on his mood. Like it was all up to him, Aria just another item on the menu for him to consider.
She forced herself to meet his gaze. She was definitely not something on the menu for Malcolm Gatti, and she would die before she let him think she was.
“Here and there.” She kept her voice steady and cold, wanting to send the message that she wasn’t interested in making small talk with him. That she wasn’t interested in pretending they were friends.
He got up, walked to the bar against one wall and poured himself a drink. When he crossed back to his place on the sofa, he set a hand on her head. The gesture was meant to mimic the one Primo had made on his way out the door, but Malcolm’s hand lingered, his fingers sliding into the hair at the top of her head, pulling some of the strands so that she winced.
She remained still, waiting for him to pass. This was Malcolm’s game: testing her, seeing how far he could push before she lost her cool.
Before she told Primo.
But she couldn’t tell Primo, and he knew it. She loved her brother, knew Primo loved her in return. She also knew him well enough to know he would rebel against an ultimatum — especially one involving Malcolm, the one person capable of stroking his ego more effectively than Aria.
The moment went on too long, Aria forcing her breathing steady until he finally stepped away, lowering himself back to the sofa just as Primo re-entered the room.
“Took care of that bastard,” he muttered as he settled back into his place on the sofa. He looked from one to the other of them. “Have a nice chat while I was gone?”
The question was an innocent one, Primo seemingly unaware of any tension between them.
“Aria and I always have a nice time together, don’t we?” Malcolm continued without waiting for an answer, his eyes still on her. “In fact, now that she’s older I think we’re going to become very good friends.”
Aria forced a smile, the only cover she had for the sense of unease sinking through her stomach like a stone.
