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I have followed the paper trail her father gave us five times over and I always find blocks. We are not sure who is helping finance his various activities, but we know someone is and that someone is powerful. While not a direct threat to us anymore, whoever he is working with could become a threat again in the future, and our preference is to neutralize them before they become a problem.
“Come back to the compound. I want to run the monthly numbers today and work through the family spreadsheets,” Sebastian says, and I hear his wife, Goldie, growling at him in the background—something about him being too bossy—and I smirk.
“Wipe that smirk off your face, Nico. My wife is the boss of this household, you know that,” he says in jest, knowing me so well.
“That’s right, Nico. You will learn that one day when you find yourself a wife!” Goldie screams out to me, and I laugh. We all love to push Sebastian’s buttons, but Goldie dances very close to the flame, getting away with a lot, constantly pushing her husband to the brink.
“See you back here soon. Good job.” Then he’s cutting off the call, and I rest my head on the back of the seat.
Watching the world pass me by out the window, I can’t help but think of my family back home in Italy. I miss them. Especially my sister, Sofia. Younger than me by a few years, we were always close, even more so as we became adults and she got sick. It was heartbreaking watching my parents struggle financially to support her medical bills. They worked tirelessly day and night, while I looked after her at home. We nearly didn’t survive it all, but then I met Sebastian.
Well known in Italy, Sebastian and Dante were looking for new soldiers, and I volunteered. He met my family, saw the heartbreaking situation we were in, and paid for Sofia to get the medical attention she needed. In return, he got me. I moved away from my family to New York and now work for him. I owe Sebastian my life, my sister's life, and I will work for him until eternity to repay him for giving her back to me.
I sit in remembrance for a moment, spinning my cell phone in my hand, before I type out a quick text to her.
Me:Miss you, Sorella.
Sofia:You need to come home soon, Fratello. I have found the perfect woman for you!
At her quick reply, I bristle. She has a fascination with setting me up with nice Italian women and trying to get me to come home more. Arranged marriages are common in the mob, less so in Italy in general. My sister, however, has taken her role of matchmaker for me extremely seriously, and I entertain her for the most part to keep her smiling. I know it is early afternoon in Italy right now, and no doubt, she is busy writing at home. An aspiring author, I already know whatever she publishes will be pure gold.
Taking a silly selfie, I send it to her, my eyes crossed, my tongue poking out, and within moments, she sends one back.
Sofia:Seriously, when are you coming home? Do you have another visit planned soon?
Me:Things are busy here at the moment.
Me:Let me see what I can arrange. I miss the sunshine and gelato. Talk later?
I feel better after checking in with her. The two of us talk almost daily. We’re close and have been our entire lives. As Tony pulls into the compound, the shared secure neighborhood where we all live and work, I know I need to get my head in the game. Sebastian wants numbers crunched and deals reviewed, and I still need another espresso.
Sofia:Deal.
I pocket my phone and step out of the car, seeing Goldie getting into her car across the garage, obviously heading to work at the gallery.
“Good luck, he is in a mood today!” she hollers to me.
“I heard that!” Sebastian barks out from behind me, hands in his pockets, not amused at his wife’s banter.
“I meant for you to!” she says with a smile, and I need to hide my smirk as Sebastian and I stand there, watching Goldie drive out of the lot.
“God, she drives me crazy, that woman,” he murmurs, before slapping me on the shoulder and leaving no room for questions. “Come, let’s get to work.”
4
EMILIA
Ismash my hand into my cell phone on the bedside table, cursing myself for not turning off my alarm on a Saturday.
It took me forever to get out of the office yesterday. Paperwork is building up as I try to meet my remaining clients’ expectations faster than usual, given that they could leave me at any moment. But I also couldn’t concentrate on anything after my early morning visitor. Then, even after all that, sleep still eluded me for most of the night as I tried to reconcile what my father has done and what this all means for me now. The few hours of sleep I did get were full of dreams of chocolate brown eyes and a domineering Italian man.
The buzzing continues as I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to deny the morning’s arrival. I thrust my hand out of the covers, slamming the surface on my side table again, wondering why the beeping noise won't stop. Frustrated, I sit up, flinging the covers back, and grab my phone, ready to throw it at the wall. But as I click on it, I realize my phone isn’t making any noise. Confused for a moment, I sit quietly and listen as it continues. Rubbing my eyes, I get my bearings and stand, stifling a yawn as I pad out to my kitchen, where I see the coffee machine beeping as it fills to the top.
But that is not what is concerning. The man standing in my kitchen with a smug ass smile on his face is what is concerning. Shocked, my breath hitches, my heart beats out of my chest, and my voice gets stuck in my throat.What the hell is he doing here?
“Ah, here she is,” he says, looking fresh as a daisy in his pristine black suit, hair slicked like James Bond. Meanwhile, my hair is a bird's nest of activity, my body barely hidden by my slouchy college sweatshirt, with only my underwear on underneath. I am pretty sure I have both dried mascara under my eyes and the remnants of saliva on my chin too.
“Here. For you.” He grabs the fresh brew that is now poured into one of my coffee cups and slides it across my kitchen bench.
