Leo’s more affectionate toward people than I’d like him to be. He gets that from his mother. She was kind, but easy prey for a manipulative man who only wanted her for her wealth. When my sister came to me for money, I released her share from the family fund, even though I could’ve simply refused since I knew about his gambling addiction.
He gambled away several million dollars in Vegas while I cared for my nephew. Shortly after they returned from Vegas, Giulia was struck by a car. When debtors called in his debts, he committed suicide. Leo stayed with me, and, for better or worse, I can’t part from him long enough to send him to boarding school. I might just build a school that will serve as my residence as well if it allows me to watch over him until I die.
I pat the top of his head, and he looks up with my dead baby sister’s eyes. People say the color of his eyes is like mine, but that’s only because they don’t know what Giulia’s looked like. They were a shade darker than mine. Almost as if her empathy for others colored her eyes into a warmer shade of blue.
“Can Lake stay?” he asks.
“I’m staying,” I tell him.
“And Lake?”
“We’ll call Fiona.” That’s Leo’s nanny who covers for us on the rare occasions Val or I aren’t here.
“Fiona started her studies in Paris,” he reminds me.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, hoping the pain will help me refocus on Ms. Wilder’s departure, but Leo’s already smirking, probably because he can tell I’m about to fold.
“Fine.” I march to the kitchen. “But then we go with plan B.”
“What’s plan B?” he asks.
“Risk capital.”
FOURTEEN
ARE YOU FOLLOWING ALONG OR SWOONING?
Lake
Even Alessio’s fine Egyptian-cotton handkerchief couldn’t absorb the flood of tears pouring down my face. Or the snot threatening to drip out of my nose if I don’t sniff it back up. The entire time Alessio stood at the door, I hoped for a miracle. And it came.
Once Alessio’s out of sight, Leo grabs my hands, and we jump up and down before he drags me toward the kitchen.
Leo and I join Alessio, and the boy pats the bar chair and then climbs onto it.
I don’t like that he’s sitting on the high chair, but it’s not my place to say anything when his uncle’s dominant energy owns the room.
Alessio’s on the phone, sounding agitated while holding a cup of coffee. The moment I sit, he hands it to me.
Thank you, I mouth.
He puts the phone on the kitchen island while the line is still open. “Ms. Wilder, this is my contact in law enforcement. Go ahead and brief him on my sister’s whereabouts. Cream? Sugar?”
“Um… Yes, both, please. But I don’t know where your sister is.”
“Hello, Lake,” a man on the other end says in a masculine rasp that sounds like someone’s running sandpaper over his vocal cords. Damn.
“Ms. Wilder,” Alessio corrects him as he grabs the sugar caddy. He flips it upside down, and a stream of sugar pours into the coffee cup.
“That’s enough. Thank you!”
Alessio shows me his teeth and puts the caddy away. “Welcome.”
“You sound passive-aggressive, Alessio,” the man on the phone says.
Alessio opens the fridge. Closes it. Opens and slams it back.
“I think this is moreaggressive-aggressive,” I say.
