I leave the office and go home to change. I try on a bunch of different outfits and finally settle on a church dress. I want something that’s attractive but not sleazy, something appropriate for meeting the parents of my boyfriend.
I have to remind myself that Frankie’s not my boyfriend. He’s just a guy I’m using to get closer to Francisco Corello. But that doesn’t change the way I feel. I wish I didn’t have to do this. If there were some way to get revenge for Danny while also protecting Frankie’s feelings, I would gladly take it. But I’m at war, and hearts will be broken.
I get dressed and spend the next couple of hours pacing my apartment, waiting for my date to show up. I decide to go to the corner liquor store to buy a gift for the evening’s hosts. Something classy but not ridiculously expensive should do. I choose a thirty-dollar bottle of red wine with an Italian label. By the time I get home, I’ve got another thirty minutes to wait.
Frankie knocks on the door right on time, looking much calmer than I am. He pulls me into his arms and kisses me, making me feel even worse about what I’m doing than ever before.
“You look amazing,” he says.
“Thank you,” I reply. “I’m really nervous.”
“Don’t be,” he assures me. “I spoke with my dad and my stepmom, and they’re excited to meet you.”
I exhale, locking the door behind me as we walk to the car. “I’m glad they’re excited.”
“Yeah,” Frankie agrees. “I almost expected the third degree, but they’re just dying to meet you. I think they worried that I would never find someone.”
“Why?” I tease. “You’re a catch.”
He gives me a side-eye, and we both laugh.
My nerves are humming. I’m wondering if I can pull this off without revealing my true intentions. What will I do when I come face to face with the man I’ve been hunting for so long? I swallow my fear and step into the car. Frankie closes my door for me and walks around to the driver’s seat.
“Don’t worry,” he reassures me, placing a hand on my knee.
“It’s dumb how nervous I am,” I scold myself. “I just hope this evening goes well.”
“I think it’s sweet that you’re so nervous,” he responds. “That tells me that you care about my family.”
I look away, not wanting him to see how wrong he is. I’ll let him think that I’m just anxious about making a good impression. The truth is something far more sinister.
On the drive over, we talk about inconsequential things. He reports that he’s been studying, and I say something about a new flavor of coffee at my favorite coffee shop. I feel almost lightheaded, and I wish I could open the wine and take a sipbefore handing it off to Corello. That would certainly calm my nerves, but it would be a social faux pas.
Frankie pulls off the main road, up to a gated entrance. Before he has a chance to buzz the gatekeeper, the massive iron bars swing open on their hinges. He puts a hand out the window to wave at the gatehouse before moving forward. I hold my breath as the escape route is cut off. We glide up the driveway, and the gate closes behind us, sealing off the only exit.
My heart is pounding out of my chest. I close my eyes to find my center, forcing myself to trust in Frankie. With any luck, I should learn everything I need to know about the Corello family this evening. I just have to ignore the very real possibility that I’ll be found out and killed for my plan.
Frankie parks near the house and gets out of the car. I stay nailed to my seat until he comes around and opens the door for me. Getting out, I clutch the wine bottle in my hand like it’s a life preserver. I’m not going to get a second chance at this. It has to go well, or everything I’ve worked for will be flushed down the drain.
Walking up the steps, I find my focus. It’s game time, and I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Frankie opens the door to the house, gesturing me in. I give him a brave smile, stepping through the entrance and onto enemy soil.
There is no one in the foyer when we arrive. Frankie takes me by the elbow and points toward the living room. From the entrance, I can see an expensive couch wrapped around a fireplace.
“Let me give you a tour,” he suggests.
I smile at him politely. As we walk through the first floor, I feel like a soldier, memorizing the layout of the compound. It ishuge. The living room is in the center of the home, surrounded by a spider’s web of other hallways and chambers. There is a library, a den, a billiard room, an exercise room, and two bathrooms.
“This is amazing,” I say, complimenting Frankie on something he has nothing to do with.
“It’s pretty impressive,” he responds.
“You grew up here?” I ask.
“Aside from a few extended trips to Italy,” he replies.
“You really are rich,” I observe.
He picks up my hand and kisses it. “With all the good and the bad that comes with it.”
