I stiffened, hiding the dirty rag at my side.
“Oh, Gabby came home early.” Cesca pulled away and resumed her work. That was the thing about the grandmotherly figure, she always knew when to speak and what to say.
Mama bounced my youngest sibling on her hip. Cherry-red cheeks said that Baby Carolina was teething. I plucked the baby from my mother and nuzzled her. Molars were a nasty business.
Mama swiped an elegant hand through her hair. “Your father is home. I was going to send Francesca in with his evening coffee, but since you’re here, you can take it to him, Gabriella. He said he wanted to speak with you after your shift.”
I tried not to fidget.
“Did….” Mama hesitated. “Did something happen?”
There was no blood on my face. She would never know how close I’d danced with death tonight. As a wife to the capo, she refused to acknowledge the uglier parts of the crime business. Her ability to compartmentalize and exist solely as a stressed-out, upper-middle class housewife was astounding.
“You’ll have to ask Papa. It’s not my news to share,” I hedged, not wanting to get into the events of the evening with her. She’d weep with joy. Hell, she’d probably start measuring me for a wedding dress. And I desperately wanted to escape to my room.
But first…. I went to the kitchen and waited by the tray with a plate of biscotti already placed next to the saucer. The espresso brewed too quickly for my liking. The moment Mama set it down and took Carolina from me, there was no more excuse.
I didn’t dawdle. Papa was grouchy the best of times, and when he had to wait for something, saints have mercy.
Balancing the tray with ease, I rapped my knuckles on the study door.
“Enter.”
I braced myself and ventured into his sanctum. A recliner was parked next to a side table where he’d thrown his computer bag. A coffee ring was dark against the red-stained cherry wood. Scratch pads, notebooks, and a cup of pencils rested on the shelf under the coffee table, where a second coffee ring rested. That was his workspace. On the other side of the room, next to a metal filing cabinet, there was a small writing desk and a simple wooden chair pushed against the wall. Both were stacked with folders overflowing with bills and other miscellaneous paper. A shredder was tucked under the desk, bits of paper making confetti on the forest-green carpet. I’d never seen him sit at that desk in my twenty-two years.
“Gabriella.” He glanced at the clock, which was surrounded by other paraphernalia on the wall. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“The crowds were light, and I wanted to come to pray over the good news.” Pray for deliverance.
He didn’t nod with approval. “I hope you know what an important position this puts you in.”
“I do.” I opened an oak TV tray, set the service tray on it, and turned it so he didn’t have to reach for the miniature cookies. Clasping my hands in front of my stomach, I studied the floor.
“Don’t fuck this up.”
Didn’t he see me shaking? I was still his daughter! He had to know McDonagh’s reputation. The man wore a mask, for crissakes! He’dmurderedsomeone in the abandoned lot like it was nothing. How could Papa be so callous? Liam was called the masked devil for a reason.
The beast might as well have had horns.
But Papa didn’t care.
Because you are his greatest regret.
I was his firstborn child. A girl. He swore I cursed my mother’s womb, because they were only able to conceive a gaggle of sisters after me. And then there was the sin neither of us spoke about, but my father would never let me forget. The one that tarnished me for all eternity.
I swallowed thickly.
Papa moved close. His evening brandy was sticky, clinging to his skin like a shirt. It leaked from his pores. It blew on my face as he leaned in. There was no need to look at the shelf on the wall, where the bottle would still be open next to a glass that hadn’t been washed in ages.
“Did you make any tips tonight?” he demanded.
I tried not to show my hatred as I reached into the pocket of my slacks. “Si, signore.”
His chubby paw swiped the cash. With a lick of his finger, he began to count. “This was all of it?”
The same question every night. “Si, signore.”
He grunted and threw the lump of crinkled bills on the recliner. It was just shy of three hundred. So much money….
