She rolls her russet-brown eyes. “Says the woman who refuses to try a cappuccino.”
“Why would I want to spoil a perfectly good cup of coffee withmilk?”
“It’s so much more than that, my dear Lark,” she replies, her slender fingers clasping together on the small table as she leanstoward me. “Now tell me why I’m risking my ‘one baked good a week’ rule by hanging out with you here.”
I twist my lips to the side. I called her because she’s the only one I can talk to about this. She knows enough of my history to understand my predicament.
“We really should get a donut,” I admit, glancing at where Emma is standing behind the counter. She’s currently helping a beta pick out a sweet treat. “Or maybe a dozen donuts.”
One of Luna’s dark mahogany eyebrows wings upward to her matching hairline. “That sounds ominous.”
“Because it is,” I mutter, then show her my phone.
The use of my legal name—Aurora—is a dead giveaway. She’s the only one in Widows Peak who knows my true identity. And very few people outside of this place refer to me by my given name.
“Fuck.”
“Yeahhh,” I drawl, then take another sip of my coffee.
“You’re going to need something stronger than a donut,” she says, leaving me to go stand in line.
When she returns with a pair of warm cinnamon rolls, I almost smile.Almost. But the message on my phone is still there. Still reads the same way. Still gives me the same instructions.
Come home.
My stomach twists. “My father must be in bad shape for Gio to send me that message,” I say softly.
Luna’s brow furrows, probably because talking about my father makes her think of her own.
Our fathers were colleagues of a sort. If criminal syndicate members can even be called that.
Her father is also dead. While mine… mine was very much alive the last time I checked. But Gio’s text this morning suggests that status is about to change.
I should care.
I should want to go home and say goodbye to the man who helped create me.
But we were never that close. I was a pawn. A bargaining chip he couldn’t wait to play.
That’s why I’ve stayed here—in Widows Peak—to hide.
The only member of my family who knows where I am is Gio. Everyone else probably thinks I’m dead. Not sure. I’ve let Gio handle all that.
However, his assistance has always been associated with a certain price.You will come home when I tell you to,he said years ago.
I agreed.
And it seems he’s decided it’s time for me to earn my keep.
I pick up the cinnamon roll, not caring at all that it’s messy and sticky, and shove part of it into my mouth.
Luna watches with a wary expression. She knows this life better than anyone else in Widows Peak. Although, her background is cartel related, while mine is the mafia.
My father is a don. One of three in New York City, part of a trio of old families that once split up the land into three even pieces.
Bianchi.
Ricci.
