“Guess that’s me,” I hear Jacopo sigh. “Nice to meet you, ma’am.”
He joins me in front of the elevators, re-settling his hat on his head. “Good manners cost nothing, Boss.”
I remain silent until we’re back in the car—afterJacopo has gone over it carefully for bombs and bugs. I had him do it right there on the street, in full view of the office windows above. Lombardo might as well know that I’m being careful.
“Anything I should know about?” Jacopo asks as we head back into traffic.
“My mother has been making trouble.”
“Well, she’s got a talent for it.”
I give a grim smile as I check my phone, including the house guard reports on Teddy. He hasn’t crept out of his room since I left. And according to the video feed from the cells, Julian is asleep—or lying listless on his bunk, the blanket pulled right over him from feet to head. “She had the senior administration over for dinner last night at the Bellamy,” I tell Jacopo, tucking my phone back into my inside jacket pocket. “Lombardo tells me she demanded they all swear allegiance to me as the new Don.”
“She’s been looking forward to the day you took over since the day you were born,” he points out.
“Perhaps. But she only weakens my position by intervening. And she was already here in LA when my father was murdered. She lied to me about her date of arrival.”
He takes that in. “Okay,” he concedes, “that’s a little more suspicious. But—”
“It could be a coincidence,” I finish for him. “I’m aware. I just wish I knew who to trust, apart from you.” He’s quiet for so long that I look over at him. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Where are we headed now? Back to Redwood?”
“For now.” I want to get back to Teddy, to check in on him, before I sit down and think through my various problems. My father’s murderer is topmost in my mind, but there are a million other small things that vie for my attention as the new head of the Family, even without the formal recognition. Just these few days have given me a new appreciation for the balance my father managed to have in his life, between business and pleasure.
“How’s your boy?” I ask.
“Miller?” Jacopo smiles as he says the name. “He’s doing well. His art’s starting to take off. And so it should; he’sgood.”
He goes on and on, and there are more questions I want to ask, but can’t. Questions like, How did you know?
When did you fall for him?
What made you decide he, above all others, was worth the risk?
How do you make it up to him when you think you’ve fucked up?
But any one of them would be too personal. Too revealing. Even simply asking Jacopo about his boyfriend is something I’ve never done before. If he were less caught up in telling me how incredible Miller Beaumont is, that might occur to him.
“Come in,” I tell him when we arrive back at Redwood Manor. “I want to talk strategy. We’ve been spinning our wheels.” If I can’t present the killer to the senior administration in the very near future, I may wellneedmy mother’s influence to force their vows out of them.
And then I would be indebted to her for life.
Jacopo follows me into the salon. “We need to be more focused in this investigation,” I begin.
“Then let’s go through what we know, and—” He pauses as there’s a movement from the other end of the room, and then he shoots to his feet, hand on his gun.
At the other end of the room, where the grand piano sits, a blond in pajamas has slipped into the room through the hidden door.
“Oh,” Teddy says, blinking at us. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”
“Go back to bed,” I order him, standing up and pointing back the way he came. “You should be resting.”
Part of me is glad that Jacopo has seen him, has seen proof that yes, I, Alessandro Castellani, ruined face and all, could have such a beautiful creature in my bed. But that part quickly dies as I see the expression on Jacopo’s face.
Recognition.
“Teddy?”
