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“They did. We’ll discuss this in the car. Gabriele’s outside.”
“He is?”
“Yeah, the moment Cohenour stood, Luca and I both knew shit was going down. We both texted him.”
Everything has just happened way too fast for me to understand. Or rather, I understand perfectly. It all happened way too fast for me to control. I don’t know if I should ignore the brothers or stare them down. The latter would be as fucking arrogant as slipping into the restaurant and listening to them. That arrogance is likely to get me killed. I keep my eyes locked on the door, but as I’m about to walk past, the one I assume is Bartlomiej stands. Luca does too and steps into the aisle, blocking the man from reaching me. Carmine shifts so Jacek can’t get to me either. Bartlomiej and Jacek glare at Luca and Carmine, the latter clearly giving no fucks.
Bartlomiej opens his mouth, and Carmine’s hand is already pressing against my lower back.
“Ms. O’Malley—”
Luca interrupts and hisses at him.
“Shut the fuck up.”
“We only wish to talk.”
Luca and Carmine ignore him, now sandwiching me between them as we file out of the courtroom. I don’t sense the Nowakowskis following us. I’m glad, but I’m also curious.
“Gabriele will decide whether they speak to you and where.”
Carmine whispers it from behind me. Part of me wants to rebel at the idea that he’ll decide who I can and can’t talk to, especially about work. The other part of me is completely content with that. I let them steer me toward the elevator, then out through the lobby. Gabriele is there, and I want to run into his arms and hide from what’s been a shitty morning. But we’re in public. He guides me to an SUV, and I want to groan. It means no privacy glass. It makes me want to doubly groan when Carmine and Luca climb in. Luca goes in the front seat, and Carmine is on my left while Gabriele is on my right. His thigh presses against me while Carmine tries to keep his leg a respectful distance from mine.
ChapterEighteen
Gabriele
It’s a tense ride from the courthouse, so I try to lighten the mood. We had little time to talk yesterday, and it was more of an argument than talking. I still hate that she’s back to staying at her place, but I respect her choice.
“How was your weekend?”
I already know the answer to my question. But I’m trying to be polite. Carmine already filled me in.
“It was surprisingly nice, considering the circumstances.”
She’d worked a lot last week, even if it was telecommuting. Paola wasn’t home much either since an election is coming up.
“Paola is such a sweetheart, and I really enjoyed hanging out with Serafina during dinner. I never would have guessed all the guys in your family took ballroom dancing classes. I definitely wouldn’t have guessed you were a star pupil and won a bunch of contests, but Carmine told me all about it. You’ll have to show me your ribbons and medals one day.”
Of course, he would tell her that. I glare at him over Sinead’s head, but he pretends not to notice.
“He looked better in spandex than I did, but I had a gift, according to our instructor. I hate to disappoint, but Mama took all my trophies back to Palermo when they moved. She said having them around was like having a little of me, so she wouldn’t miss me so much.”
“That’s so sweet.”
I can tell she’s still frazzled, but talking is helping. We keep chatting about the stories Carmine and Auntie Paola told. I keep a tally of how many punches I need to get in at the gym the next time he and I spar. Our conversation remains lighthearted until we get to her office and close ourselves into the conference room.
After learning the Nowakowskis showed up, I need to discuss something vital with her. I’ve hinted at what I need to say a couple times, but now it has to all come out. If she wants to jump into a lifeboat and row away to safety, then it has to be now. She needs to know enough to make an educated decision.
“Sinead, we have to talk about something that concerns my case, but also if there’s an ‘us’ in the future.”
“Okay.”
She eases into her chair beside mine. I sit and swivel toward her.
“If you were a typical woman I met somewhere and was into, I wouldn’t tell you who I really am. I wouldn’t say anything about the Mafia. I wouldn’t give any hints about my previous arrests. At least, I wouldn’t tell you until I was sure there was a real future for us. I wouldn’t bring you anywhere near this world if I could help it. But you know who I am. You must have looked up my record before we even met. You may not know the intricacies of the Mafia, but you’re intelligent enough to sort out fact from fiction. For this case and in the future, there are things I cannot tell you. I willnevertell you.”
I pause to see how she reacts. Her expression is neutral, but I can see it in her eyes. She’s dreading what might come next. She’s preparing herself for something bad. She won’t be wrong.
