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“But if you’re a bad girl…,” he warns me, a flash of fierceness in his eyes, “…your stay with us will beunpleasant.”
I feel my head nodding, suddenly tired.
Like everything’s just too much to handle.
Like sleeping was easier.
Maybe the old man’s right. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
But my biggest concern now is what happens to me once they find out I’m not who they think I am?
And whatever happened to my dreamboat? Where ishewhen I need him?
“Rocky?” he calls over his shoulder. “Come say hello to our newest guest… Maria Portello.”
Umm…this is gonna be awkward, I can just tell.
CHAPTERSIX
Rocky
Papa’s up to something, I can tell.
His following me after not going to meet Portello himself tells me he’s not as sick and weak as he made out.
He’s a man with revenge on his mind. And it’s a dish best served warm if I remember the last time he arranged some payback.
Portello said he knew my father well, but I know my Papa better.
He’s a man I wouldn’t want to cross, even though I am his youngest son.
Youngest, maybe, but not the favorite. Far from it.
But we can’t have everything in life.
I think I remind him too much of my mother, who left him when he was still a nobody within the family’s ranks.
If only she could see us now….
A part of me wishes she’d taken me with her, but I guess she was in enough danger as it was back then.
Leaving a mob family isn’t simply a matter of packing a bag and finding a new place to live.
But that’s the past, and today I’m living in the future somewhat, as I plan one with my mystery girl.
In my mind, at least.
And finding out exactly which apartment is hers is a lot easier, thanks to her nosy ground-floor neighbor.
I’ve hardly stepped inside the dilapidated building when a door swings open, and an older woman in a dressing gown and slippers pretends to be just stepping out.
But something tells me she’s had her face planted against her peephole for a while, straining to see and hear anything that’s happening outside of her tiny existence.
I’m used to looks from a certain type of lady, but this old dear is really something.
She’s almost cute in the way she comes on to me.
“Are…Are you here to fix my pipes?” she asks in a sultry tone, patting her thin hair and holding the top of her robe closed, keeping herself decent like people used to.
