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Rosa dropped my hand and stood. Losing her warmth was hard to swallow.
“Thank you for that.” I gestured toward the chair where Fern had sat.
Her dark brown eyes, so similar to her son’s, studied me with disgust. “No need to thank me. I couldn't let you make a fool of yourself and this family. If you’ll excuse me.”
Marco and I watched her disappear out the door.
“Dinner’s going to be fun.”
“Not helping, Marco.”
“Wasn’t trying to help. Let’s go get a drink. Adriana and Dante should be around here somewhere.”
“Thank God.”
The cocktail hour was awkward and quiet. Taz and Mickey joined us and stood in the corner, drinking. Classical music played in the background as the adults avoided each other, and Dante sat subdued despite his free access to a plate of cookies.
When dinner was announced, we shuffled to the dining room and sat.
“I’m going to Italy,” Rosa said over her vibrant salad.
Dante set his fork down and looked up at his grandma. “Are you visiting Nonna?”
“No, honey. I’m going on a three-city tour, and unfortunately, Nonna doesn’t live in any of the cities.”
“You’ll get me a present, right?”
“Dante!” Adriana gasped.
The table chuckled, some of the tension lifting at Dante’s oblivious sweetness.
“I’ll do you one better. How would you like a gift from every city?”
He nodded and took a hesitant bite of arugula. The kid may have been a foodie, but greens were still hit or miss.
The waiters brought out the entrees, and I’d just taken a bite when buzzing sounded through the room. Marco and Taz took their phones out and jumped out of their seats while Mickey’s face twisted into a grimace.
I wiped my mouth and pushed my plate back. “What happened?”
“Lorenzo,” is all Marco said before storming from the room, followed by the other men.
Setting my napkin down, I said, “I’m going to find out what’s happening.”
“It’s not our place,” Rosa answered.
Adriana shrugged as she took another bite.
Part of me wanted to stay at the table and be the daughter she thought I was before she knew I killed her husband, but I couldn’t. Standing, I stared down at her, and she locked her jaw, daring me to disobey. It was time for Rosa to see yet another side of Sasha Mitchell-Moretti.
I pushed away from the table and slowly rose to my feet, and Rosa’s tan skin flushed, turning her a terrible shade of red. I broke eye contact and left with Rosa shouting my name.
The men’s voices grew louder the closer I got to the office.
“Three of my capos are dead, Marco!”
“I know, Taz.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
