Come to think of it, I never asked him what he was doing so close to the condo on that cold, snowy day. He wasn’t working for my father at the time, and his apartment was in a different borough. He had no reason to be here, unless it was for business. But he and my father were enemies already, so if he’d been here for business, it wouldn’t have been with my father. Dante took me to a coffee shop and spent the rest of the afternoon with me, so unless he blew off his date, he wasn’t meeting someone socially either.
Wrapping my arms around myself, I stop at the spot where I’d bumped into him. It feels like a crossroad of sorts, a kind of fork in the road that changed my destiny.
“Mrs. Morici.”
I spin around at the sound of my name.
Ulysses watches me with a wary gaze. “Please, come back to the car.” He motions at my bleeding feet. “You’re hurting yourself.”
“I’m fine,” I bite out, wishing he’d just leave me alone.
His face hardens, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “It’s not a request.”
My lips curl. “You spoke to him. You told him what I saw.”
“I didn’t. I’m just doing my job by watching out for you.” He holds out an arm, indicating the car that’s been following me and that’s now idling on the curb. “Please, get inside.”
“Why didn’t you? Call him, I mean?”
“He’s got a meeting with the pakhan later, and he can’t afford to lose focus.”
Concern squeezes my ribcage. “The bratva?”
Ulysses doesn’t reply. He’s already shared too much information with me.
When I don’t move, he takes a step toward me. “You should know that Mr. Morici gave me permission to touch you if it’s for your wellbeing or safety.”
I’m tempted to run and let him chase me down the street, but he won’t hesitate to do so. He’ll do what Dante told him to do, and he’ll report back to my husband. If I do as I’m told, it’s because I don’t want to give Dante the satisfaction of knowing he upset me enough to make me run away.
Scoffing, I walk past Ulysses to the car.
A man gets out of the front passenger side and opens the door for me. I shift into the back. Ulysses follows, sitting down next to me.
We don’t speak until the driver drops Ulysses off at Jazz’s building to collect the car he left there.
“It’s a wonder you didn’t get a fine,” I say.
“I did.” Ulysses gets out of the car. “They send them via text message these days.”
“I hope it’s a big one.”
A few hundred bucks is nothing for a man as wealthy as Dante, but still. I want him to feel it. It’s a pity the car didn’t get towed away.
Ulysses shrugs. “We don’t pay fines. By now, it’ll be squashed already.”
I stare at him, my lips parted in indignation. I’ve just told him I want my husband to suffer, even if only in some small way, and he’s told me in not so many words that I should keep on wishing because Dante is untouchable, not only by the law but also by his wife.
Ulysses averts his gaze as if realizing his mistake. “Let’s go.”
I cross my arms. “I’ll stay here, thank you very much.”
He clenches his jaw but doesn’t argue. Turning to the driver, he says, “Go straight home. I’m right behind you.”
He slams the door and walks to the other car. I glance up at Jazz’s window. If Reino hurts her again, I’ll think of a million ways in which to make him suffer.
Winding down the window, I inhale the crisp air to clear my head, but all I get is a lungful of exhaust fumes.
The driver closes my window and locks the control. He offers me an apologetic smile in the rearview mirror. “For safety.”
