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"Interesting," she murmurs thoughtfully. "So, you hire women?"
"Yes, we do in fact hire women," I affirm.
"More than just secretaries?" she presses, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Of course, we do."
"Could I be more than a secretary?"
Her question catches me off guard, but I can't deny her passion and drive. There's something about her that demands respect.
"If you showed qualifications for something," I reply cautiously, "I would certainly consider you for it if there was anything available."
"Is there anything available?"
"At the moment, the greatest need I have is for an assistant. But if you can behave yourself and prove your work ethic to me," I say, teasing her lightly, "then if something else opens up while you're still staying with me, I'll consider you for it."
She seems contented with my answer, her smile warm and genuine. "Tell me about your mother," I ask, wanting to learn more about her family. But as the words leave my mouth, I watch her expression change – she looks almost... nostalgic.
"Ah, my mother," she says, a smile lighting up her face. "She's the one person I can always rely on, no matter what."
"You seem to be very close with her."
"Absolutely. We share so many things, and I'm grateful that I can still talk to her while I'm here." She takes a sip of her wine, looking thoughtful. "Did you know my parents' marriage was arranged? It's common in our world."
"Really?" I ask, intrigued.
"Truth is, he was trying to sell me off to Primo to broker a deal with your family," she huffs, clearly annoyed by the memory.
I shake my head in disbelief. "That would never have worked. We don't do arranged marriages in my family – not like that, anyway. My father had a proclivity for wives, but never for marriage. All of us brothers are actually from separate marriages and are only half-siblings."
She nods her head. "Maybe I shouldn't have been so surprised that my father was trying to marry me off."
I take a sip of my own wine. "I think your outrage was justified."
We share a quiet moment, our eyes locked on one another.
"What about your own family?" she asks, breaking the silence.
A shadow crosses my face as I think about my father. "My father is in prison, and no one expects him to live out his sentence."
I can see the sadness creep onto her face.
"There's no need for your sympathy – our relationship has been nothing but strained."
"Why is that?" she asks gently.
"Because he never supported my decision to go legitimate. He always wanted me to be a part of the mob world, even when I was doing well on my own. He even tried to frame me for crimes just to get me mixed up in it all. That's why I was in Miami when the shootout went down."
Her eyes widen, clearly uncomfortable with the revelation. "I didn't realize...So, you weren't supposed to be in Miami?"
"I was coerced into going under false pretenses," I respond.
"I'm sorry," she replies and I shrug.
"Tell me about your mother," she says, her eyes searching mine.
I sigh, the memories surfacing. "She's in Italy. I haven't given her much thought, as she was never really a part of my life."
