My stomach dropped. With her, a personal chat usually involved something I didn’t want to hear. She’d spent years guiding me, training me. Why couldn’t she trust me?
∞∞∞
Filomena waited by a black limo at the private terminal. She pulled me into a brief hug, then gestured to the car.
"You didn't have to pick me up," I said, sliding in.
"I wanted to talk. Alone." She settled across from me, poured sparkling water from a crystal decanter. "Before the family meeting."
"About?"
"About your assignment." She handed me a glass. "Things can go wrong, Jules. Investigations are dangerous. If Vanetti discovers who you really are—what you're really doing—you could end up dead."
"I know the risks. That’s not going to happen."
"Everyone says that." She studied me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. "But spending time with someone has consequences. It’s easy to grow close and risk developing feelings for them—that's when it gets dangerous. That's when people make mistakes."
"What makes you think I have feelings for him? I just met him. Besides, this bastard might have killed my father." The anger felt good. Solid. Something to hold onto when everything else felt uncertain. "I’ve been training for this. You’ve taught me well. Nothing’s going to get in the way."
"Good. Let that drive you. But not control you." She paused. "You've done work for the family since you were young. But this is different."
I thought about Tony Four-Fingers. My first real job at ten years old—playing in the street, dropping a listening device under his table at Patruno's Deli. I'd chased a ball under the table, planted the bug, took five dollars from a man who'd be dead two weeks later.
I'd had nightmares about his bloody corpse breaking into my bedroom for a month.
But I'd done it. Started earning my place in a world that didn't easily accept women.
I raised my chin. "I'm ready to prove myself and take my place in the family.”
"Are you?" Filomena leaned forward. "Because something's different this time. I can see it in your face."
My breath caught. "What do you mean?"
"This Vanetti. You talk about him differently."
"I don't talk about him at all."
"Exactly." She smiled slightly. "You avoid mentioning him. That's worse."
"Zia—"
"I'm not judging. I'm warning." Her expression softened. "Be careful,bambina. Men like that—powerful, attractive, intelligent—they're dangerous even when they're not the enemy. And if he is the enemy..." She didn't finish.
She didn't have to.
We drove the rest of the way in silence. A part of me was growing tired of this game. This constant battle of proving myself. I was more than competent to do the job. It didn’t matter if I found Quentin fascinating. It wasn’t going to stop me from completing my assignment.
∞∞∞
The family meeting was smaller this time. Carlo, Filomena, Silvio, along with my two uncles, Dominic and Angelo.
Carlo got straight to the point. "Are you in?"
"Don't know yet. It's down to me and one other candidate." I kept my voice confident but not cocky. False reports were worse than disappointing news.
"When will you know?"
"Few days, maybe. He's running background checks."
