“The scene or the fact it happens in real life?” I risk asking.
“You think this happens in real life?” His eyes are subtly probing, and I’m conscious of just how close we are.
“You don’t?” I volley back.
“I know there are plenty of evils in this world. Unfortunately.” His eyes dip to my mouth for a nanosecond.
“Unfortunately, I know that too.”
His brow puckers. “Did something happen to you?”
I want to tell him everything. But I can’t risk it. He has a rat in his midst, and I don’t know who it is or how much access they have. I wonder if they are being blackmailed by the cartel too. “Something doesn’t need to have happened to know about the evils in this world. I’ve watched my fair share of documentaries. Heard stories at college. A girl at my high school was murdered by a sick pervert when I was a junior. Mom tried to raise me to be aware of the world around me, both positive and negative.”
If only I’d been more aware when it counted.
“Your mom sounds amazing.”
“She is.” I almost choke on my wine. “I mean, she was.”
Compassion floods his face.
“Sometimes, I forget she’s not here anymore,” I add.
“I can’t imagine how tough it must be. It sounds like you and your mother had a very close relationship.” He leans forward to grab the wine bottle, and a whiff of perfume tickles my nostrils.
My stomach lurches, and I gulp over the lump that appears in my throat. He was out with a woman tonight. It hurts more than it should, and not for all the right reasons either.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, stalling with the bottle in his hand.
“Nothing,” I croak before clearing my throat. “Just thinking about Mom.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my relationship with my son since you came into our lives. I shudder to think what it’d do to him to lose me so young. It makes me more determined to always be around for Elio.”
Guilt shreds my insides at his words.
Cristian refills his wineglass before moving the bottle toward mine. There isn’t much wine left, but I know when I’ve reached my limit. Slapping my hand over the top of the glass, I shake my head. “You finish it. I won’t be in a fit state to watch your son tomorrow if I drink more.”
“You’re good with him, Sloane. Thank you.”
“Please don’t thank me.” He’d be sick if he knew the truth. “Taking care of Elio doesn’t even feel like a job. I love being with him,” I say with sincerity.
A loud pop on the screen interrupts our conversation, and the movie reclaims our attention. Tommy falls forward with a bullet hole in the side of his head.
“He had it coming,” Cristian says. “He was too much of a loose cannon, and he didn’t abide byomertá.”
“Omertá?” My brows lift.
“It’s a code of silence and a code of honor within the Italian mafia. Tommy was never going to be initiated.”
“Sounds like you know your mafia movies.”
His eyes bore into mine. “Something like that.”
I don’t know if it’s smart to pursue this conversation, but I don’t have time to play it safe. “Do you know how to use a gun?” I ask.
Shrewd eyes examine my face. “Why do you ask?”
I shrug casually. “You’ve spoken about having enemies, and you have a top-notch security system with armed bodyguards.”
