“She’s fine,” I mutter before he can ask. “Make sure Ricardo’s father knows how disappointed I am.”
I slide into the back seat with her still in my arms. She stirs faintly, murmuring something that sounds likedon’t take me back.
It lodges somewhere deep in my chest.
She doesn’t belong in my world. She shouldn’t be here, trapped in my orbit, suffering for my sins and my enemies’ greed. And yet, when I look down at her sleeping face, all I can think is that I can’t let her go.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.
The car glides through the Chicago streets, and I stare out the window, jaw tight, every nerve still raw from that single kiss.
It meant nothing.
Ithasto mean nothing.
But when her fingers twitch against my chest, curling into the fabric of my coat like she’s holding on even in her dreams, I know I’m lying to myself.
The next day, there’s a knock on my office door. I already know who it is before I say, “Enter.”
Riccardo and his father step inside. Both men keep their eyes low, shoulders drawn tight. The boy looks pale; his father looks like he hasn’t slept. It’s nowhere close to the remorse they should be showing right now.
“Don Conti,” Riccardo starts, voice strained. “I wanted to apologize for what happened yesterday.”
I set my pen down deliberately, letting the silence stretch before I answer.
“For which part?” I ask, my tone smooth as glass. “For taking her out of my home or for getting caught?”
The boy swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Both, sir.”
His father speaks up then, his voice low and gravelly. “It was my fault, Don Conti. I should have made sure he understood the limits of his assignment. I’ve already spoken to him about the mistake.”
“Mistake?” I repeat, leaning back in my chair. “That’s one word for it.”
Riccardo’s eyes flick up, just for a second, before he drops them again. “I didn’t mean any disrespect. She just wanted to see the market. I thought?—”
“You thought,” I cut in, “that the rules I set don’t apply when she smiles at you?”
He flinches, and I almost pity him. Almost.
What he doesn’t know is that I’ve seen every moment they shared together while I was gone. The balcony conversations. The cigarettes. The smiles that lingered too long. Each one replayed for me in grainy footage the second I returned. Each one a knife twisting deeper.
“She was grieving,” I say, pacing slowly behind my desk. “Vulnerable. And you mistook her kindness for something else. You thought because she talked to you, because she laughed with you, that meant you could touch her.”
Riccardo’s breathing hitches.
“You think I don’t know what it’s like?” I continue, my tone turning softer. “To want something you can’t have?”
No one dares answer.
I stop in front of Riccardo again, close enough for him to see that I’m not shouting because I don’tneedto. “You should have remembered who she is. Who I am. And what happens when someone under my protection gets hurt.”
“She could have been taken,” I continue. “Do you have any idea what that would mean foryou? Foryour family? Forme?”
“Yes, sir,” Riccardo whispers.
“You think she’s harmless,” I say quietly. “That she’s just some pretty girl who wanted a night out. But people like us don’t get to forget what the world is, Riccardo. You should have remembered that.”
