“It’s very early,” I point out severely, and they exchange glances. “Luca’s still upstairs. We had a…busy start to the morning, if you know what I mean.”
Thatgets them. The merest suggestion of what Luca and I might be getting up to tends to turn the old mobsters into pearl-clutchers.
“But,” I go on, “I guess you could come in, and I’ll let Luca know you’re here. If he’s not too busy to see you, and if you can wait on him.” I’m gambling on the idea that they won’t like the thought of hanging around, waiting for Don Morelli to take his sweet time getting ready to see them.
“No, no,” Rossi says, waving his hand around, and my heart lifts as I see my strategy working. “You’re right. We’re intruding far too early. Our apologies.”
“Hold up, now, Sal. The kid’s inviting us in,” Joe Alessi coaxes. “And we came all this way. Why not go in and wait a little?” He gives an appreciative sniff. “Smells like breakfast’s on the table, too, eh?”
I clear my throat. “Sure is,” I say with a bright smile. “Pancakes. Scrambled eggs for those who want it. Maybe some bacon, if Hudson has any in the fridge.”
Rossi and Alessi exchange a look. “Alright,” Rossi says slowly. “If we’re welcome.”
“Of course,” I say, opening my eyes wide. “Family’s family, right? Of course, your men will have to wait outside. Policy,” I add with an apologetic smile. “But I do promise, Don Rossi, Don Alessi: you’requitesafe in here.”
Alessi doesn’t like it. Rossi just shrugs. “I trust your men like my own,” he says, and steps over the threshold. Alessi, after a backward glance and a muttered Italian command to the bodyguards, follows.
Only once they’re inside do they see Frank, skulking behind me in the shadows like something out of a nightmare. “You remember my brother-in-law,” I say to them, “Frank D’Amato?”
He steps forward with a wild grin. “Sure, they remember me,” he says, and I think Frank enjoys the expression of shock on their faces as much as I do.
There’s a long pause, and then Sal Rossi, with a growing grin, extends his left hand to shake Frank’s. “Of course, of course,” he says. “Good to see you again, D’Amato.”
Alessi gives a mumbled greeting and pretends not to see the prosthetic hand Frank extends.
“Gio, maybe you could take their coats and pat them down,” I say, “and then show them into the sitting room. Once Hudson’s finished—”
“Pat us down?” Joe Alessi rasps. “Now, that ain’t no way to treat your guests, Mr. D’Amato.”
“Policy,” I say firmly. There’s no fucking way I’m letting these two get any further into the brownstone with weapons.
“Oh, just let them in, baby bird. I’m sure my two greatest allies aren’t here to do me harm, hm?”
We all turn as one to stare up at the landing of the staircase, where Luca has paused at the head of the stairs. He’s tying his robe shut, the scarlet silk robe I love seeing him in because it’s so damndramatic, with his initials embroidered in gold thread on the breast pocket.
At least the vibrant red is putting a little color in his cheeks.
I dart to the bottom of the stairs but he pins me with his eyes and I freeze. “I’m sorry if we woke you,” I say, and then I give him a fierce glare.Go back to bed.
“Not at all,” he says, turning his gaze on Rossi and Alessi. “Sal. Joe. How kind of you to come over. But there’s really nothing at all to worry about.”
He begins to descend the staircase, and I hold my breath the entire way. He’s slow, but in a way that readsamblingrather thanin agonizing pain, and the silence when he reaches the foot of the stairs tells me I’m not the only one standing there in complete shock.
“Don Morelli,” Rossi says at last, his voice slightly rough with relief. “We heard such terrible things—”
“You should never listen to gossip,” Luca says with a contemptuous smile. “Surely at your age you know better, Sal?”
“I should,” he says sincerely, and turns to Alessi. “We should both know better. Come on, Joe. Don Morelli’s husband was right; it’s too early for visiting. We’re intruding.”
“Not at all,” Luca says, in a way that means exactly the opposite. Alessi seems too taken aback to do much more than mutter a goodbye, and then Gio escorts them to the front door.
Alessi finds his voice at the doorway and turns to call, “We’ll be back to see you soon, Don Morelli. To discuss business, eh?”
Luca waves a hand in part acknowledgment and part impatience. “Of course. Next time give me time to dress, first.”
Rossi just about drags his compatriot out the door, and we all watch through the reinforced glass panel in the door as they disappear down the stoop.
I turn to Luca, about to demand an explanation, but I only just have time to notice the sweat breaking out on his brow before he stumbles forward and collapses into my arms.
