“His home is mine just like mine is his. I told you last time, I have a key.” From the back of the cupboard Dom had three bags of double zero flour. “One will do.” He placed the other two back and picked up what we needed.
“His home is currently mine, so I’d appreciate some warning.”
“So that I don’t have to hear you having to fleece Luc out of more money?” I asked him, referring to the conversation that I’d overheard. Angelo started to turn red. “If you have a problem with me having a key to this house, you need to discuss it with Dante,” I advised him. I would have paid to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. “Let’s go, Dom.”
“I’m beginning to see why people would be happy to see the back of you,” Angelo said, and I turned on my heel to face him.
“I haven’t done anything to you.”
“But you’re the one who pulls the strings. That’s easy to see.”
“Mia,” Dom said firmly. “Don’t waste your breath.”
I wanted to though. I wanted to let rip at Angelo and ask him where he got off thinking he knew me well enough to think people had the right to wish me dead, but I had better things to do than get into a petty argument with him. “Have a good night,” I told him, but my usual pleasant chirp wasn’t laced around the words.
“Luc is not paying him one extra cent,” I said as we left the house, and Dom snorted.
Dom stayed with me as I worked through preparing the rest of the dishes, proving to be more of a hindrance than help. He declined my late invitation for him to join us, instead taking a stack of tupperware of food home for him and his husband to feast on.
My mind barely had time to stray when Dante’s voice thundered down the hallway. “Fuck, it smells good in here.” He walked into the kitchen, nose in the air, Luc behind him and trailing behind Luc was Franco.
“Franco,” I said with a smile. There had been a doubt in my mind that he’d turn up, but it looked like we were continuing to build on our weird relationship.
As I wiped my hands on a dishcloth, Luc made his way over to me, wasting no time in planting his lips on mine. “Careful, Mia,” he mumbled against them. “I’ve been told I’m the jealous type.”
I threw the cloth onto the counter and playfully shoved Luc, but he barely moved from the spot. “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “You’ll always be my favourite.” Dante made a retching sound, and I stuck a middle finger out to him. When I looked past Luc, Franco watched the scene awkwardly. “Sorry,” I said to him, slipping out of Luc’s hold. “I’m still trying to get my house in order.”
“Good luck,” Luc said under his breath. “I’ve been trying for years. Dante makes it an impossibility.”
“Drink, Franco?” I asked, ignoring Luc’s grumble.
“Sure.” He nodded.
I walked to the other end of the kitchen as he took a seat at the table, but I’d acquired two shadows. “What are you two doing?” I asked them quietly. “Have you heard anything today?”
“No,” Dante said. “Looks like we might be in the clear.” I didn’t hold the same optimism. Twenty-four hours of silence felt less like freedom and more like waiting for someone to make a move. Dante picked at the bowls on the counter. “You know, Mia, it’s not like we’re friends with Lurch so it’s awkward that you’re making us spend time with him.”
“Can I remind you that you’re not required to be here?”
“How else am I getting fed?”
“Can I swap out?” Luc asked optimistically.
“No. It’s one dinner,” I told them both. “Be nice.”
“Between Lurch and Angelo, I need an extended sabbatical when all this is over. You guys better be sending me Maui for my birthday,” Dante mused.
I pulled a face. We would all need a break when this was over and that was exactly what we wouldn’t get. Work began the moment Luc took over the role, cementing our status. A vacation was not on the cards.
“I’m surprised you’re both in such a good mood,” I commented. The fact that shit hadn’t hit the fan had obviously worried them less than me. “Especially after dealing with Angelo today. I hope you told him no, Luc.” I held out a bottle of wine and the corkscrew to him so he could open it as I grabbed some glasses.
“No to what?” Luc asked, stabbing the corkscrew into the mouth of the bottle. “Why were you speaking to Angelo?”
“I needed to borrow flour from Dante’s,” I explained before I ended up in trouble. “The raise he asked for. You told him no.”
“Angelo didn’t ask for a raise.” The cork came out of the bottle with ease under Luc’s guidance and made a satisfactory popping noise.
“He did,” I argued and then dropped my voice because Franco had looked over with interest. “I heard him on the phone asking you to double the amount. He said keeping secrets was expensive work. I know he’s more mouth than action but—”
