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“You think?”
“He sleeps a lot.”
Sandro grunts, and turns to go to the study. I follow at his heels, reminded of the times when we were children, and I used to dog his footsteps like this, partly to annoy him, but mostly because he was my big brother, and I wanted him to notice me.
To play with me.
He never did.
He glances over his shoulder at me with mild surprise. “Do you have more to report?”
“I…”
“Because I don’t have time for any bullshit this morning,” he goes on, “and I have a meeting with Jack. But is there anything you need to tell me? Please tell me you haven’t murdered anyoneelseby mistake.”
“No,” I say. “Not by mistake.” I smile at his reaction. “Not at all,” I amend.
“Is it about your mother? You’ve found proof? Or perhaps you’re letting it drop, at last?”
Impatiently, I snap, “I just wanted to ask you how you knew you were in love.”
Sandro pauses while taking off his jacket, staring at me. “What?”
A knock at the door alerts us that Jack has arrived, and I give him a big smile as he enters. Jack takes one look at Sandro’s face and asks, “What’s going on?”
“Julian,” Sandro says carefully, “do you understand that Leo Bernardi is the enemy? That you should not form an attachment to him?”
“Oh, hell—isthatthe problem?” Jack turns to me. “He’s right, Julian. You can’t go all crazy obsessive about the Bernardi Enforcer.” He waves his hands around to emphasizecrazy obsessive.
“I’m not,” I shoot back. “It’s not like that. I understand who he is—but what you two don’t seem to see is that he’s not just a tool or a weapon. He’s…he’sLeo.”
“What do you mean?” Sandro asks, but there’s a wariness in the question.
“I mean...” I don’t know what I mean. I flail around for an answer, strangely at a loss.
Jack doesn’t help. “We’re serious, Julian,” he says, grabbing me by the arm. “None of that erotomaniac shit you pulled with a certain Morelli, you hear me?”
Out of habit, I grab his throat. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Jack grabs my throat right back with his other hand. “Don’t fuck this up for Sandro.”
“You’re not my brother,” I hiss at him. “You don’t get to order me around, Jack.”
“Oh, yes he does,” Sandro says mildly, and we both turn our faces to look at him in surprise. “Or very soon he will. I plan to make Jack my Underboss.”
We both drop our hands from each other at once.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Jack snaps, right as I say, “But Vito DiPietro is Underboss.”
Sandro gives Jack a resigned smile. “This is what I wanted to discuss with you today. And we will talk it through—in private. In the meantime...” His dark eyes turn to me. “What is it that you feel for Leo Bernardi, if it is not some kind of obsession?”
I look down, trying and failing to find a way to explain it. “It’s not like before,” is all I say. “It’s not like it was with Angelo.”
Jack still looks skeptical. “You said Leo was putty in your hands,” he points out. “But maybehe’splayingyou. Are you mistaking manipulation for real feeling?”
I shake my head firmly. “It’s not like that. And anyway, Leo’s not comfortable with intrigue.”
“He was comfortable enough dressing up in a mask to dick you down anonymously.”
