“Yeah, well, I looked anyway.” She’s angry now, I can see it in the set of her jaw. “Who was he? Why did we have to run?”
Through the rear window, I can see another car pulling out of the alley behind us. Greco’s men, following.
“Paulo, lose them,” I say quietly.
“On it, boss.”
Elena’s eyes widen. “Lose them? Lose who? Alessandro—”
Paulo takes a hard right, then a left, weaving through downtown streets with the practiced ease of someone who’s done this before. The car behind us struggles to keep up.
“Hold on,” Paulo warns.
He cuts across two lanes of traffic, earning angry honks, and ducks into a parking garage. He takes the turns fast, tires squealing, going up two levels before pulling into a spot and killing the engine.
We sit in silence for a moment, listening. Waiting.
No other car follows.
“We’re clear,” Paulo says.
“Good. Take us back to her place. Different route.”
“Wait.” Elena’s voice is small, scared. “We’re going back to my apartment? What if they followed us there? What if—”
“They didn’t follow us. Paulo lost them.”
“Paulo lost them because he’s done this before.” She’s looking at me now, really looking at me, and I can see the pieces clicking into place. “Because this is normal for you. Having drivers who can lose people in car chases. Running out of restaurants. Carrying guns.”
“Elena—”
“Tell me the truth.” Her voice is shaking. “Right now. What do you really do, Alessandro?”
I could lie. Should lie. Tell her it’s business rivalry, corporate espionage, anything but the truth.
But I’m tired of lying to her.
“I’ll tell you everything,” I say. “When we get you home safe. When you’re behind a locked door and I know you’re protected. Then I’ll tell you everything.”
She stares at me for a long moment, then nods slowly. “Okay. But you promise? No more dodging, no more ‘it’s complicated’?”
“I promise.”
She leans back against the seat, and I see her blinking back tears. “This was supposed to be a nice dinner.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You apologize a lot.”
“I have a lot to apologize for.”
We drive back to her place in silence. Paulo takes a circuitous route, doubling back several times to make sure we’re not followed. When we finally pull up outside Petals & Pines, it’s fully dark, the shop windows glowing with Christmas lights.
“I’ll walk you up,” I say.
“You don’t have to—”
“I’m walking you up.”
