“Agreed.” Carlo glanced around the room. “Let’s move on. We need a contingency plan if the lab finds poison. It’s going to mean there’s another player targeting Vanetti, and is likely looking to take over his territories. It’ll also mean Julia will need to be pulled out of there.”
My heart beat increased. “I have—”
“Hold on.” Carlo cut me off and held up his hand. “We’re not taking undue risks here. You picked up the pastries. The bakery is run by Vanetti’s friend. Obviously, they’re going to check everything. If they find nothing, the missing link will be you.”
Sil nodded his head with a little too much enthusiasm. “He’s already thinking you put a poisoned cherry on top of his zeppole and planned to watch him die.”
“Shut up, Sil.” My blood began to boil. Silvio wanted me off this job and he would say anything to convince my brother it was the right thing to do.
“Hold on, Julia.” My aunt Filomena’s voice was calm and reassuring. “Silvio is correct. It only makes sense that Vanetti is going to assume you picked up perfectly fine pastries on the way to the office and the poison was introduced between the bakery and Vanetti’s plate. Did anyone else have access?”
“No.” I thought about where the box had been. I picked it up, took it to my car, and carried it to Quentin’s office. He then— “Wait a second. From Quentin’s office to the kitchen, Serenity Jones—the psychic—carried the box.”
“That’s something.” Carlo closed his eyes for a moment and the room fell silent. “Here’s a possibility. This woman wants to get to Quentin. She pretends to be a psychic. Her ploy works because the warnings she gives, they’re all things she’s staged herself.”
I considered the possibility. “That’s a stretch. Everyone in the office is convinced.”
Silvio leaned in and smiled. “The bigger the lie.”
“He’s right.” Carlo stood. “However, let’s not jump to any conclusions just yet. If the crime lab report shows poison, we might have to pull you out of there.”
“No!”
“He’s just looking out for you, Julia.” My aunt Filomena was hard to argue with. “You’ll have to accept that it’s not worth your life.”
“But I have so many files to copy.” Panic tightened my chest. “If I’m pulled out of there, our takeover plans—”
“I’m not putting your life in grave danger for more intel, Julia.” Carlo spoke firmly, not as my brother, but as the Don. “That’s final.”
Clenching my jaw, I accepted that there was nothing more I could say and nodded my acceptance to my brother. The rest of the night was mostly uneventful. We discussed ongoing business and, as for Quentin and my role, we decided to take a wait-and-see attitude. What the crime lab reported would be significant in our decision.
This left me in a state of limbo, which I didn’t like one bit.
At the last meeting, my Uncle Dominic had spoken to me. This time he just narrowed his eyes and spoke in a hushed whisper to Uncle Angelo. Both of them had fallen in line behind my brother Carlo, but what if they resented him and his leadership?
They had seniority as my mother's brothers, but I'd never witnessed a power grab—only that the family highly valued their opinions. Of course, I hadn't been included in these kinds of meetings until now. But that didn't stop me from knowing about the family dynamics.
Tired of all the drama, I decided to book a room at the Regis.
“You want to crash in my guest room?” Vinny asked as we pulled away from the curb.
“No. I just booked a room.”
“All right, suit yourself.” He gave me his crooked grin. “I’m ordering meatball parms from Rosario’s. We’re watching the game—Joey, Micky, Al—couple of the guys are coming by.”
“Vinny, I’m not hanging out with your crew. I’m going to the Regis. Their Sunday brunch is killer.”
He snorted. “You’re sobougie, Jules. You were raised on sausage ‘n’ peppers, meatballs, and mozzarella, and now you’re brushing off Rosario’s to hang out with the blazer crowd?”
“Some of us evolved.”
Vinny rolled his eyes and turned up the stereo. I think I might have hurt his feelings, but spending Sunday watching a game I don’t care about with his friends I care even less about sounded like hell.
Truth was, my thoughts kept circling back to Quentin.
∞∞∞
I slipped into the silk sheets at nearly four in the morning—The St. Regis knew how to treat its guests—and let myself imagine what I couldn't have.
