Every adult at the table freezes. Massimo answers without missing a beat. "Someone who doesn't mind his own business."
Amauri nods thoughtfully. "Oh. So like when I read Mummy's messages?"
"Exactly like that," I jump in quickly.
Gabe exhales through his nose. "I mind my business."
"From a distance," Enzo adds.
"With surveillance," Alessio corrects mildly.
Gabe shoots him a look. "You hacked your ex-girlfriend's thermostat."
"That was climate control," Alessio says smoothly. "And she was wasteful."
Amauri looks between them, delighted. "You guys are weird."
"That," Damiano says solemnly, raising his glass of water toward Amauri, "is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to us."
The tension dissolves into laughter. I glance at Gabe again. He's pretending not to care, but there's a faint color high on his cheekbones now.
"She's really that happy?" I ask quietly, keeping my tone neutral.
His expression shifts, not soft, exactly. But guarded in a different way. "She has a good life."
"And you're… what? Making sure it stays that way?"
A spark flickers in his eyes. "Something like that."
Massimo leans back in his chair, studying him. "Just don't confuse protecting with hovering."
"I don't hover," Gabe replies.
"You installed cameras," Enzo reminds him.
"For security."
"In her house?"
Gabe doesn't answer.
Amauri gasps again. "Youarea spy!"
Gabe looks at him seriously. "If I were a spy, you wouldn't know."
Amauri's eyes go wide with admiration. "That's so cool."
I shake my head, smiling despite myself. The banter keeps rolling after that, lighter, easier. Stories about bad haircuts in the early days. A deal that went sideways because someone wore the wrong shoes. Damiano once getting locked out on a balcony in nothing but dress pants.
"It was a tactical retreat," he insists.
"It was a sliding door," Enzo corrects.
Massimo's hand settles over mine under the table. Warm. Solid.
I look around at these men—dangerous, powerful, ridiculous in flashes of humanity—and realize something unexpected. They aren't just testing me. They're letting me see them. Sometime, between steak and sarcasm, between Gabe's questionablemonitoringhabits and Damiano's balcony incident, this stops feeling like a summit of crime lords. It feels like family. Complicated. Slightly unhinged. But family all the same.
The laughter dies down eventually, replaced by the comfortable clink of silverware and low conversation. Amauri is halfway through dessert when Enzo leans back in his chair, swirling his wine.
