His slight concern pales in comparison to the knot in my stomach.
I want to vomit, but that would be frowned upon, doing so in the mafia boss’s office.
I exhale heavily and find the words that I’ve been desperately wanting to say, eating me alive inside.
“It’s about the boy you hired and my daughter.” I grit between clenched teeth. If I bite down any harder, I’m likely to crack a tooth.
Dante tilts his head to the side.
“The boy. Do you mean Ashton?” Dante asks and then narrows his eyes. “What makes you think anything is happening, Moreno?”
Dante is a good judge of character, not to mention that he can read me better than anyone else under his command.
How he hasn’t seen the stress and worry on my face, I suppose I’ve learned to hide some of my tells.
“I witnessed Ashton and my daughter sneaking into the hall closet together when he came to visit for Christmas.”
Dante’s eyes tighten and he leans back in his chair, clasping his hands together on his desk. He tilts his head back, thinking about my accusation.
“And you think something nefarious is going on under my roof?” Dante questions.
“I think he’s fucking my little girl,” I snap at the mafia boss.
Dante doesn’t so much as flinch. “Nova is eighteen. She’s off at college, living with this boy you worry about.”
Heat licks my skin as I tug the top button of my shirt collar loose. I’m suffocating just thinking about his paws all over my daughter.
“I know,” I choke out. I pinch the bridge of my nose and then glare at Dante. “I blame you, for bringing him into our home, letting him work for the family.”
Dante sighs.
He doesn’t say a word, not at first.
He glances at his clasped hands and then at me.
“I might have an idea.”
“You might have an idea?” Questioning the mafia boss isn’t usually wise, but I can’t stop myself.
Might doesn’t satisfy me. I’m filled with an unbridled rage. If it were up to me, I’d have the man shacking up with my daughter killed or, at the very least, tortured and castrated.
But he works for Dante.
So do I.
While I’ve worked for the man longer, it doesn’t make it any less of a complication.
“Do you trust me?” Dante asks, staring at me, gaze unwavering.
“Implicitly.”
I wouldn’t be doing this job if I didn’t trust my boss. He’s also my best friend, but sometimes his choices are skewed, like screwing Nikki at the bar that night, getting her pregnant.
Of course, he knew who she was—the daughter of his enemy—and he still went after her.
He didn’t heed my advice when I told him to leave well enough alone.
“Good, because I have an idea, but you’ll need to let me handle it.”
