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“Ready to call Fern?” Marco settled back into his chair. He seemed lighter, less burdened.
“You have no idea.” I sat in front of the desk
He put his phone on speaker.
“Fern Robison.” Ah, the direct line. In the months she’d been on retainer, I hadn’t been gifted with her personal number.
Another reason to hate the bitch.
“Marco Moretti. We have some news.” His eyes lit up, and he looked happier than he had in months.
“Okay?”
Marco grinned at me, gesturing to the phone and giving me the floor.
“Tootsie and Zoe are alive and well.”
“Sasha?” She sounded beyond confused. “What are you talking about?”
“The police should be contacting the DA right about now, letting them know the alleged victims are up and walking around. We wanted to give you a heads-up to start working on getting Luca released.”
Silence. Sweet, stunned silence.
“Say hi, Tootsie.”
“Hi,” he said flatly, not nearly as amused by my antics as I was.
“Oh. Wow. Okay. I need to—They’re really alive?”
At that moment, it dawned on me that she never believed Luca was innocent. “Yeah. They are. Get Luca out.”
Marco shook his head. “Let us know if you need anything. We’ll be in touch.”
“Okay.”
He tapped his phone and let out a bark of laughter. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”
“You know what? I did. The only thing I’d enjoy more is slapping her across her smug face.”
Marco hopped up, slipping his phone into his pocket. “There’ll be time for that. Let’s go fill Rosa in. I’m sure she’s losing it.”
“Nah. If anything, she grabbed Russo on his way out and pumped him for info.” I followed him out of the office and down the hall. The guys milling about respectfully dipped their heads in my direction before averting their eyes. “Weird.”
“You’re the boss’s wife. Get used to it. Now that word of your vicious nature has made its rounds through the family, no one’s going to fuck with you.”
I blinked at him. “They know?”
“Lorenzo told everyone about Cy.” Marco led me to the kitchen, where Rosa was having tea. Bending down, he kissed her cheek, then went to the cabinets and pulled out two teacups. “Do I need to boil more water?”
“I have plenty.” She patted the table, inviting me to sit. “The meetings go well?” Picking up her teacup, she kept her face carefully black.
I sat down, thanking Marco when he poured our drinks.
“As well as can be expected.” Marco smiled at his aunt, taking a sip of his steaming tea.
“Oh. That’s good.”
The three of us silently drank tea and ate delicious cookies that I suspected came from Loretta’s kitchen. She’d become the unofficial cook of the family since Luca had been locked up.
