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“This is one of the smaller trees, too.” I lean close, talking in a stage whisper. “Whatever you do, don’t tell Santo’s enemies that he loves mulled wine and old carols.”
Leah’s laugh bounces around the lobby, but we both freeze when a cold voice drawls from the landing above us: “No, that would be… unwise.”
“Boss,” I rasp, my heart suddenly thumping faster. Oh, god. He heard that. Was it a mistake bringing Leah here?
Far above, Santo De Rossi rests one hand on the polished balustrade, watching us with a cool expression. It’s late, but he’s still dressed in tailored suit pants and a crisp white shirt, a gray embroidered waistcoat hugging his sides. Those glacial eyes take in Leah’s sleep shirt and old sneakers, then linger on her hand clutched in mine. Did I seriously think I could ever hide this from him?
“This is Leah. She’s the, uh—”
“Piece of skirt?” Santo tilts his head.
Out of the corner of my eye, Leah raises one eyebrow. I tighten my grip on her hand.
“Bookshop owner,” I say instead, way too late. “She saved my life that night when I got jumped, and she was attacked tonight by someone with pictures of all of us. Raul, me, Diego and Allegra. Contract killer, unaffiliated. Raul’s got him.”
Maybe if I keep talking, Santo won’t ask any more questions—and I’ll never have to face Leah about that piece of skirt thing.
“No photo of me?” Santo asks lightly, still staring at my girl with a laser focus.
“No, just your inner circle. And Leah, so I guess they think she’s one of us. Someone’s trying to send you a message, boss.”
Whoever it is, they’ve signed their own death warrant, because Santo De Rossi does not take well to attempts at intimidation. The last idiot who tried to make our boss dance to some other man’s tune got cubed inside his favorite fancy car.
Guess thereisa grand conspiracy. Christ, I hate when Raul’s right.
Santo is quiet for a long moment, contemplating, and with each second that passes, I can breathe a little freer. I know our boss, and if he meant Leah harm, he’d have done something already. Besides, he’s not even looking at her anymore. He’s gazing into the Christmas lights on the tree, expression distant.
I steal a glance at my girl, because even though I’ve known Santo all my life, I’m not blind—Iknowthat he’s a handsome motherfucker, and power can be a hell of a draw. Plenty of girls around here make heart-eyes at the mob boss all the time, much good it does them.
Does Santo even have human urges that way? I’ve only ever seen him hungry for priceless artworks or power, never for sins of the flesh.
Though as we wait, a faint scent drifts into the lobby from the direction of the kitchens: the sugar-sweet smell of baking cookies. Not very intimidating, but a sweet tooth is Santo’s only weakness.
“You’re still here.” The boss shakes his head and blinks down at us, resurfacing from whatever mental game of 4D chess he was playing this time. “What do you want, Nico? Keep the girl if you want, but don’t get distracted. This is no time to be sloppy.”
Here we go.
I clear my throat. “Her name is Leah, and I want to hide her here for a while. It’s not safe for her back home while she’s a target.”
Dark eyebrows bounce up Santo’s forehead, because how often do I make demands of the boss? Maybe never. “I can see that you are… attached, Nico. But I don’t have time to babysit an outsider. It seems we are at war.”
“I’m right here,” Leah says loudly, and I grimace as she goes on: “And I don’t need babysitting. I run a successful business and I saved Nico’s life, and I can entertain myself, thank you very much. Jerk,” she adds under her breath.
Silence.
Thick, painful silence.
“She didn’t mean that,” I start to say, but Santo holds up one hand.
“Yes, she did.” The mob boss watches my girl for a long moment, and my stomach doesn’t unknot until cool humor flickers in his eyes. “Keep her around, then. She suits you.”
I go to usher Leah from the lobby before he can change his mind, but Santo’s voice makes my shoulders stiffen.
“Oh, and Nico? She’s important to you, then?”
There it is. He won’t let her stay otherwise—and if I agree, Santo will have more power over me than ever.
Leverage.Everything is goddamn leverage in our world, even back when we played games and got scabbed knees together as little boys. What Santo’s really asking is: what will I do for him in return for her protection?
