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“Festa della Repubblica,” I correct.
“Whatever. I don’t give a shit. They’ve had it every year for I don’t know how long. They won’t cancel. It’s a cultural tradition.”
“Good. We’re gonna be there.”
“What?” he exclaims. “I’m not celebrating with those fucks. We’re not even Italian, and how the hell are we gonna get an invite?”
“We don’t wait for invitations, Tommy. We show up and dare them to make a scene at one of their cherished celebrations. Don’t worry, I have a plan. Not all of us will go, but I want you and Jian there.”
“Okay,” he responds begrudgingly.
“Your girl is on board?”
“She doesn’t know yet, but she’s on board.”
“I don’t know how you’re tolerating her. How can you—”
“I know what I’m doing, Tommy,” I say, cutting him off.
He sighs. “Okay.”
“Any word on the people messing with the Irish?”
“Nah, after we hung around a few of their spots they seemed to quiet down.”
“Good. I’m sure it’s not over, but Donati is the highest priority.”
“Got it.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
“All right.”
When I walk out of my bedroom and head toward the kitchen, I can smell the aroma of food filling the house. To no surprise, I find Mariella and Robert standing side-by-side, cooking and talking. A small grin touches my lips when Mariella turns around and grins.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” I reply.
“Good morning, sir,” Robert greets.
“Morning. I’m going for a run. I’ll be back in an hour.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Oh.” Mariella looks between me and Robert. “I’d love to get some exercise. Is there a trail around here?”
“Not really a trail, but I can show you where I go.”
She looks up at Robert and he smiles. “Go. I can finish this on my own.”
“Of course,” she says with a laugh. She turns to me. “Give me five minutes. Please,” she adds on.
My lips twitch and I give her a nod, looking at my watch.
She runs toward the stairs.
Almost exactly five minutes later Mariella is jogging down the stairs wearing a pair of navy blue leggings, a loose tank over a dark sports bra, and a pair of Nikes.
