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“No need. I’ll arrange for someone to swipe the phone and pull up records with the cell phone company.”
“Good. We’ll put this rat business to rest before Asher’s wedding, and I can return to running the restaurant side.”
“Not quite.”
The fuck?
“What now?”
“I’m getting word from our informant that there’s another person in the bar.”
“Impossible.”
Why now?
Aside from Ari, my staff had been with me for ages. But I trusted Gio’s intel. I trusted the Romano Syndicate.
And that meant believing another rat existed.
Gio’s voice left little room for debate. “I need you to stay there.”
“And go hunting for rats,” I finished.
“Exactly.”
I swiped a hand over my face, unable to hold back my anger.
Not what I had in mind for my birthday, but there was nothing I hated more than a rat.
Chapter
Twenty-Two
Love can flourish only as long as it is free and spontaneous; it tends to be killed by the thought of duty.
BERTRAND RUSSELL
ARIANA DE LUCA
I’d never been a fan of birthdays.
I had no parents, and while I loved my aunt, she’d never wanted children. She didn’t know how to care for them.
I felt that as each birthday passed with little fanfare, like she didn’t know what to do.
When I’d turned twelve, a neighbor had asked her if she had plans to throw me a birthday party, and she’d looked so flustered by the idea.
She ran to the grocery store, bought me an array of Barbie party paraphernalia I was too old for, and threw me my first birthday party with the neighborhood children as guests—all of which were at least five years younger than me.
I hadn’t minded.
I knew she’d tried.
I knew I’d stuck a knife in the middle of her plans for life.
She had ambitions in her law firm, and I’d been an obstacle the second she’d taken me in, yet she loved me anyway.
I was grateful for her sacrifices.
