I hate lying to her, but I decided not to tell her about losing out on the foundation funding. I figure I’ll borrow money from Ms. Zara, but tell Mom the funds are from the charity.
Then I’ll just work to pay it back.
As soon as we get settled on the bus, I text Ms. Zara to see if I could come by to talk to her about a private matter. I asked for a day off from working at the Spada Estate today, but I really don’t want to wait till tomorrow to have this conversation. While Mom dozes with her head on my shoulder, I do a bit of rough math to figure out how long it would take me to pay the money back. If I keep going as I have been with my various jobs, relying on the arrangement with my silent guest—assuming he’ll want to continue meeting every Saturday—it’d take about ten years.
Ten years.
It doesn’t matter. I can do a decade. Even if my silent guest chooses not to continue with our visits, there will be someone else. Someone who might want something more than talking. Maybe someone like the man the other night. I’ll have to endure. I will. I’ll do anything for Mom.
The ping of an incoming message arrives while I’m helping Mom off the bus a block away from our apartment building. While Mom heads toward the corner store, I stop to fish out my phone.
“Are you coming?” she asks.
I stand frozen, seeing that the message is from Ms. Zara.
“Iris? Baby, is everything okay?”
“Yeah. Can you go ahead, and I’ll meet you inside? I need to get this.”
“Sure, sweetheart,” Mom says while I open the text app.
15:03 Zara:Sure! I’m home all day. Heads-up, though… Massimo is on a bit of a warpath. Don’t take it personally if he snaps at you. He’s dealing with an issue that just came up with the IRS, and something about our accounts being frozen.
And there it is… The hits just keep on coming.
I shove the phone back into my bag and hurry after Mom.
I’m about to duck inside the store when a vaguely familiar man in a black suit approaches, blocking my way.
“Miss Fabbri?”
“Yes?”
“I have a message for you from Mr. Ruffo.”
I gape at the man, utterly confused. “For me?”
“He’d like to see you tomorrow morning at his office and will send a car to bring you to him. I strongly suggest you comply with this request, if you know what’s good for you.”
He gives me a nod, and without waiting for my response, gets behind the wheel of a sleek black car parked at the curb and pulls away.
As I watch the taillights get lost in traffic, I realize where I’ve seen that man.
In Capo Brio’s library. As one half of Ruffo’s “dead body disposal squad.”
Chapter 19
The glass skyscraper rises before me; its pristine windows reflect the morning light, and for a moment, I just squint up at it, my neck craned as I seek the upper floors through the glare. The executive floors. He’ll be on one of them. People in spiffy business clothes rush past me, catching me with their elbows or bags as if I’m not even standing on this sidewalk. I’m not entirely sure if it’s a sudden onset of vertigo or dread that makes me want to climb back into the car and ask the driver to return me to my home.
“We need to go in, miss.” I tense at the driver’s voice. “Mr. Ruffo is waiting.”
“Yeah, sure.” With my hands stuffed into the pockets of my hoodie, I follow the man across the navy marble lobby toward a bank of elevators.
I didn’t sleep last night. At all. I don’t remember when I last had something to eat or what it was. I feel like I’m moments from collapsing into a boneless heap. Both mentally and physically exhausted. I haven’t been able to think straight since yesterday afternoon. Since the one-two and then three, the knockout punch, that shattered all hope in me more effectively than Dr. Reynolds’ prognosis for Mom. I’m in no shape to talk with Ruffo right now, but his henchman didn’t give me a choice in the matter. Not that I would expect them to. No one ever refuses to comply with an order from an affluent member ofla Famiglia.Especially if that individual is Adriano Ruffo.
What could he possibly want to talk to me about? And why now, all of a sudden? About his wife?It’s been months since I walked in on him with her dead body, which he did nothing about, so it can’t possibly be because of that.
I haven’t seen him in weeks, not since before he left for New York. He hasn’t been to the Spadas’ lately, and I’ve been in a constant state of mental fog because of him all that time. I’ve dreaded facing him, though. Afraid he would somehow magically figure out that I dreamed about kissing him. That the dream still haunts me every once in a while. God, when it comes to Ruffo, I’m never not conflicted. An out-of-control pendulum between being attracted to him and being frightened out of my mind. And now, having been summoned as I was, I’m utterly on edge.
