"What do you want me to say?" I ask finally.
"I want honesty. Are you keeping her for the family's benefit, or your own?"
The direct question cuts through all the bullshit. Because he's right to ask it, and we both know the answer.
"Both."
He considers this. "At least you're not lying anymore."
The threat is implicit but clear. In our world, family loyalty is everything. If I'm seen as compromised, as putting personal interests above family interests, there will be consequences.
Permanent consequences.
"I need more time," I say.
"How much?"
"A week. Maybe two. To eliminate the Verga threat completely. To make sure she's safe."
"One week," my father says finally. "You have one week to resolve this situation. After that, the girl goes back to Roberto whether you like it or not."
"And if I refuse?"
"The consequences will be severe for both of you.”
The meeting ends shortly after that, with plans made for increased surveillance on Verga properties and discussions about potential retaliation for the warehouse burning. But Ibarely hear any of it. All I can think about is the ultimatum my father gave me.
One week to figure out how to keep Viviana safe without getting myself or her killed in the process.
Tommy drives me back to the safe house in silence, probably reading my mood correctly. When we pull into the driveway, I can see lights on in the kitchen windows. Viviana is probably finishing the dinner she was making when I left.
The thought of her cooking for me, waiting for me to come home, makes something twist in my chest. Because this is exactly the kind of domestic fantasy that could get me killed.
"Want me to stay close tonight?" Tommy asks as I get out of the car.
"No. But keep your phone on."
"Copy that."
I watch him drive away, then head for the front door. The house smells like garlic and herbs when I walk in, and I can hear Viviana moving around in the kitchen.
"Hey," she calls out. "How did the meeting go?"
"Fine," I lie.
She appears in the kitchen doorway, wearing one of my t-shirts over her jeans. The sight of her in my clothes does things to me that I can't afford to feel right now.
"You look like it went worse than fine."
"Just family business. Nothing I can't handle."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"No."
She studies my face, then nods. "Dinner's ready if you're hungry."
"Thanks."
