He’s older than me and has seen a lot in his life, his experience written in the dull, faded scars crisscrossing his face.
Bloody battles, family wars, people who’ve lost their lives over nothing.
His dark eyes glide over the crowd like mine.
As he’s scanning the faces for general information, I’m trying not to think about the woman inside the house.
Truthfully, I’m hoping to see her step outside, or at least to spot Paxton walk through that door with the slimy fingers of rejection and disappointment on his face.
There’s no way he hasn’t found her.
Where else can he be if not in a room with her somewhere?
I look up at the house. A few rooms are dipped in darkness. I can’t imagine he’s followed her upstairs.
Where are the Gallos when you need them?
Where is Sylvia Gallo?
That woman with her evil, beady eyes should watch her granddaughter like a hawk.
I shouldn’t rely on her, though. She might be inside, plotting with her husband, while Paxton and that little heap of trouble could be on the other side of the house.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, hard.
“We're looking for Bianca’s daughter,” I eventually say, when the edge of his stare feels uncomfortable on my face.
I tilt my eyes to meet his.
“She’s inside,” I say.
“Why are you looking for her outside?”
A tense smile moves fleetingly across my lips.
“Long story. She might be doing something with Maclean inside the house, and that might not bode well with my in-laws. They just pitched her to a few suitors.”
He cracks a knowing smile.
“No way. She’s going to become someone else’s problem soon?”
“What do you mean by someone else’s?”
“I was thinking about your in-laws.”
“Right.”
I’m not convinced that’s what he meant by that.
“She’s not my problem.”
“It looks like she is.”
“I don’t want Maclean to lose his head over this, and her to truly become my problem.”
Cosimo has eyes and ears. He knows what happened in New York. He knows what an entitled brat Leilani Gallo is, but we’ve never talked about it.
We never talk about stuff like that. It’s not fitting.
