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Meanwhile, Bruno gestures at the two of them. "Tell her you're not coming alone."
"We'll be there," I amend. "I have a couple of friends here in LA with me. Is that all right?"
"Are these like actual friends or big brooding kill-you-with-a-crowbar kind of friends?" she checks warily. Then she sighs. "You know what? Just bring them—I'm sure it'll be fine, and I don’t think any people in your line of work go somewhere alone because that'd be stupidly dangerous, right?"
Sort of like I did yesterday to see Giulia? "Right," I laugh.
"Well, great! I'll text you the deets. Please don’t speak about it to Giulia because I want her to be surprised."
I hesitate. "Are you sure Giulia will like a surprise party? She doesn't seem like the type…."
"Oh—hell, no. She'd kill someone on accident and then me on purpose if it wasalla surprise. I just wanted something to surprise her about it, and I figured she'd probably really like it if it was you being there. Maybe. I hope. Are you two on better terms than last I saw you?"
Bruno can definitely hear her clearer than I thought because he turns to eye the panties pointedly again, and I give him a murderous look before scooping them up and tucking them into my pocket.
"Most of the time."
"Perfect! I'll see you guys there—and, um…no weapons allowed. Kay? Great!"
Giulia's chatterbox friend finally hangs up, and Marcus sighs heavily. "Please tell me we're not actually going to a Russo's fuckingbirthday party."
"I'd prefer going alone, but Mr. Party-Crasher over here probably thinks it's a bad idea, safety-wise," I look at Bruno.
He shrugs. "She made it sound fun. And yeah, we can't have you wandering around LA alone anymore because truce or no, most Russos would be happy to see us dead on their turf."
I don’t care about most Russos. I don’t even care about the party being planned for Giulia—but I'm glad I'll be there because I intend to be with her as much as she'll let me until we can stop hiding our relationship and keep each other for real.
Chapter 18
Giulia
Havingasexy,sordid,and downright hilarious secret boyfriend turns out to be problematic when I accidentally laugh at his text while having lunch with my mother.
I can't help it. Roberto keeps trying to one-up his latest dirty joke, which happens to be about seashells—but I quickly cover my mouth and shove the phone back in my purse when my mother looks up sharply from her farm-raised sustainable caviar.
"Did you justguffawat me?" She makes a face.
"I coughed."
"No, you distinctly laughed." Her lash extensions flutter as she glances at the purse beside me. I can't tell if she's suspicious or just stunned at my uncharacteristic outburst.
I feign innocence and take a mini bite of sea scallops with black truffles. This is the place she's taken me for my birthday lunch outing with her every year since I turned sixteen and declared it was my favorite restaurant at the time. It's still nice, but the food doesn't seem to be sitting right with my stomach today.
Nowadays, if anyone asked, I would admit that my favorite restaurant is actually in San Francisco, the same little dancing restaurant where I first met Roberto.
Look at me, waxing sentimental. It must be the birthday. Every year, it's like this—another year older, another year to analyze for a better perspective. This year I accomplished a hell of a lot, much like any other, but for the first time since I can remember, I'm actually struggling to keep from smiling as I sit here eating what used to be one of my favorite meals.
That damn winking mafioso just had to extend his stay in LA. Getting laid regularly by a deviously sexy man puts me in a dangerously good mood. Right now, I should be chatting amiably with my mother about nothing important, not laughing and tipping her off.
"By the way, how did that blind date in San Francisco go, darling?"
I glance up at her. My brother Antonio looks more like my mother than I do, while I took after my father. She has much lighter brown hair with highlights professionally framing her face, and her makeup and outfits are always up to style and done expertly.
As the longtime wife of my powerful Don father, she's sharp-eyed and can have an even sharper tongue, and she's never shied away from the realities of our lifestyle. She hates slouching, hates cheapskates, and especially hates time-wasters, which is why I don’t beat around the bush.
"The man Mandi set me up with was dull. I won't be seeing him again."
Despite what I'd told Roberto, Dud Date was my last blind date. I'd managed to fend off any others since then and only told him otherwise to try pushing him away and seeing if it would make him jealous.
