“There is,” I say. “We just need to do things differently.”
“What do you have in mind?” Enzo asks.
Everything is chaotic right now, but the one thing I’m certain about is that we can’t keep doing things the old way. And there’s only one way to speed up the process.
“We have to ask for help,” I say. “We need allies.”
He raises his eyebrows.
"Paris fashion week," I say.
Enzo runs a hand down his face. "Please elaborate.”
“I know someone who can help,” I say. The plan spins together in my head, all of the pieces slowly falling into place. “And they’ll be there.”
"Just when I thought this week couldn't get any weirder," he mumbles. "And what do you plan on doing with Grace while we’re in Paris?”
"She's coming with us," I say.
"Of course she is."
“Pack your bags. We'll leave in an hour.”
“Dante, you know I usually trust your judgment, but I think bringing that girl along is a horrible idea."
"She knows," I say.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I told her everything. About my family, the deal with the Don, the two names."
"What were you even thinking?" Enzo is gaping at me now. "She knows about Ida?"
"I didn't tell her about Ida," I say. "But she knows pretty much everything else."
"And what about me?" he asks. "Does she know all of my secrets, too?"
“Of course not."
"Right, because that's where you draw the line."
"Is there a problem?" I ask calmly.
"I can't deal with you right now," he says, grabbing the remaining piece of French toast from his plate and storming out.
"Meet me at the front door once you're done packing."
He gives me the middle finger without turning around. I understand why he's pissed. But I know he'll come around. He always does.
I head toward Grace's bedroom and knock on the door before entering.
I find her sitting by the window.
She stands when she sees me.
“Are things okay between you and Enzo?” she asks.
"He's just being a baby," I say. “He’ll get over it.”
