Unable to reason my stupid emotions away, I focused on scrubbing my station until it sparkled. Then, because I didn’t know who—if anyone—would be waiting for me outside the restaurant, I asked Brandon if I could bum a ride.
“Yeah, of course,” he said, grabbing his keys out of the break room. “You want to grab a drink at that bar on the corner first?”
A drink? My chest hurt so bad I wanted to down the liquor of an entire bar to kill the pain.
I must have hesitated too long, because Brandon hurried to add, “Just as friends. To celebrate that this dinner is finally over, and things can get back to normal.”
Now that was something I could drink to. I hoped to never see Dominico again.
Forcing a smile, I said, “I’m in.”
Ten minutes later I sat on a barstool beside Brandon and ordered something fruity and loaded with alcohol. I downed it and nibbled on the pineapple slice while I ordered another, and another. In fact, I have no idea how many drinks I downed that night. Thankfully Brandon must have been a gentleman, because I vaguely recall him pouring me in and out of his car and helping me to my front door. Everything after that was a blur.
Turns out alcohol only made things worse, because the next day, my head hurt right along with my heart.
CHAPTER NINE
Dominico
FOR THE MOST part, the engagement party went off without a hitch, yet still managed to be a complete nightmare. Thanks to Annetta’s culinary wizardry, the seafood pasta was great—I heard nothing but compliments about the other dishes as well—and all the bosses appeared to enjoy themselves. But being around Valentina gave me my first peek into my own personal Freddy Krueger-inspired nightmare to come. And judging by the forced smile stretched across Abriana’s face, she felt trapped in the same horror flick.
I sidled up to my sister and asked, “Hey, how you holdin’ up?”
“It’s like I’m not even here,” she replied, glaring daggers at her fiancé. “I think he’s talked to everyone in the buildingbutme. If this is any indication of what our marriage will be like, I’ll need pets—lots of pets—to keep from talking to myself.”
Mobster wives were often lonely, and Abriana and I had witnessed enough of Mamma’s isolation to know how often Father neglected her. Mamma never seemed to mind, though. She stayed busy with us, through volunteering with the PTA, and, in more recent years, by surrounding herself with other wives. In fact, Mamma seemed happier and more relaxed when my old man stayed out of the house. Wheneverhe was homethe whole household tiptoed on eggshells, careful not to piss him off.
Since I didn’t want to tell Abriana she might be better off not having the attention of her fiancé, I squeezed her shoulders and did my best to reassure her. “You’ll get through it. We’ll help you.”
She frowned. “I know, Dom. It’s just not what I expected.”
Curious, I asked, “What did you expect?”
“Some sort of acknowledgment of my existence would be nice.” She raised her chin and looked across the dance floor. “You have a borderline stalker on your hands. My God, Dom, she’s just a kid.”
I followed her gaze and suppressed a groan at the sight of Valentina Pelino smiling and waving at me. I’d never realized how youngshe was untilthat night. “I know! She keeps talking about her high school prom like she’s waiting for me to ask her to it.”
Laughter bubbled up from Abriana’s chest. I glared at her.
“Better tell her you didn’t even go to your own prom,” she said.
School was never for me. I’d spent barely enough time at a desk to learn the necessities before Father yanked me out and put me to work. I could read orders, write a coded message, count money, and tell when someone was skimming off the top. What more did the second son of a mob boss need? I didn’t even make it through tenth grade.
“Well, at least she’s into you,” Abriana said. “It’s kinda sweet.”
“Yeah. Sweet.” I forced a smile and returned Valentina’s wave, which unfortunately encouraged her to approach.
“You look beautiful, Abriana,” Valentina gushed. “Congratulations on the engagement.”
“Oh yes, I’m so lucky,” Abriana replied, her sarcasm clearly lost on the girl, who giggled and batted her lashes before tugging me toward the dance floor like an overzealous puppy.
I didn’t want to be rude and offend her or her family, but I’d mistaken Valentina for boring, never realizing how annoying she could be. I missed her boring side so damn much I wanted to shoot her just shut her up. I’d rather be chained to a corpse than babysitting some bubbly idiot. She blabbed on about high school drama while I bit my tongue and zoned out, nodding whenever she paused. She spoke of no goals beyond graduation, marriage, and children, and bragged about her old man like he was some sort of superhero who solved all her problems, rather than a crime lord who made people disappear.
I suffered through two chatter-filled dances before Mario slipped in through the side door and waved me and Michael over. Thankful for the interruption, I excused myself and followed my brother. We slipped out the side door to where Mario waited.
“What’s up?” Michael asked, looking up and down the street. “Where’s the crew?”
Since pretty much my entire family had been roped into entertaining, Mario was running security. We should have numerous men within sight, and I didn’t see a one. Something must have happened. My back tensed, and I reached for my pistol. Michael already had his gun in hand.
