“Do you know her?”
“Do I know who?” I asked.
“That girl,” she responded.
Letting her go, I brushed past her and walked back over to Mikhail. “I don’t see anyone,” I mumbled, shrugging her off. Ignoring Sloane’s persistence, I stubbed out my cigarette and headed back inside the restaurant.
As I turned a corner, I spotted my sister, Nina, cradling a bundle in her arms. When I stepped closer, I saw it was Mira, my niece.
“Hey, Uncle Maxie,” Nina whispered in a soft voice, adjusting Mira’s tiny hand.
“Nina,” I warned half-heartedly.
“Max,” she corrected, laughing lightly.
As Nina lifted Mira into my arms, a genuine smile spread across my face. Her small fingers wrapped around mine, and a flutter tugged at my heart. I watched her the entire time my family caught up with one another.
Nina’s attention drifted behind me, and that was when I saw Sloane and Mikhail walking in. A pang of envy, sharp and unexpected, pierced me.
They settled at a table. Sloane whispered something in Mikhail’s ear that made his lips curve into a smile. It was the first time I’d ever seen him smile. Not a smirk or a grin but a genuinely warm expression.
For some reason, seeing him happy with her made the knot in my stomach twist even tighter. Everyone here seemed to havesomeone by their side, even the men who didn’t necessarily deserve it. Giovanni had Nina and a daughter to nurture. Mikhail, who was far over the line of redeeming himself, had Sloane.
And me? I had nothing.
The light weight of Mira in my arms grounded me. Nina’s hand fell to my shoulder, where her grip tightened slightly. Stealing a glance back at her, I saw a flicker of concern cross her face.
She mouthed, “Are you okay?”
Shame washed over me. Here I was, holding their daughter, and all I could think about was what I’d lost. I forced a smile, the action feeling stiff and likely unconvincing.
“Yeah,” I rasped. Lying had become a habit of mine. “Always am.”
The room fell silent as Marco strode toward our table, his anger obvious. It had been a while since I last saw him. He’d been my lawyer, my lifeline, for the past year while I was rotting in jail. He’d fought for me, sat through every damn court hearing, facing off against prosecutors who wanted to bury me. He was the only one on my side, pushing through legal battles day after day, making sure I had a shot at getting out.
“Marco,” I greeted.
Giovanni’s eyes narrowed in Marco’s direction, and Marco returned the look without hesitation. He pulled up a chair beside me, his intentions clear.
Marco rambled on, clearly agitated about some money missing from his account. His voice grew louder as he recounted the details, his frustration boiling over. I handed Mira back to Nina when Marco made all of us look to see if any money had been taken out of our accounts. Everyone but me and Marco had their money.
Pissed and making a scene in front of my family, Marco’s anger was directed at me. It didn’t take them long to realize this was more of a personal matter, and quickly, they said their goodbyes.
“I need that money,” Marco demanded.
I leaned back in my chair, my eyes never leaving his. I cleared my throat, breaking the silence, and reached into my pocket for a cigarette. The click of my lighter seemed loud in the room. I took my time lighting the end of the cigarette before finally speaking up.
“You think I took your money, Marco?” I asked, my voice low and measured.
His jaw tightened. “I don’t care who took it,” he said, taking a deliberate pause. “I want it back.”
I inhaled a drag. “Money goes missing. It’s the nature of our business.” I exhaled slowly. “You should know that by now. You’ll have it back soon. Giovanni has someone to figure this out. Give it a day.”
“It’s the Americans.”
I nodded. “I know.”
Marco’s eyes flashed with uncertainty for a moment, but the hard line of his mouth didn’t soften. He was a man who was used to getting what he wanted, and patience wasn’t one of his virtues. We had that in common.
