Page 160 of Merciless Daddy

His second attempt failed too.

“Should I call Pietro?” I asked. “He has a quieter way of threatening objects.”

“Be quiet.”

The third try caught the wolf around its fat middle. The claw rose. The wolf swung over the chute.

Then dropped.

Into the prize slot.

I clapped both hands together.

Sal bent and retrieved it. The thing was soft, grey, and profoundly ugly. One eye sat higher than the other.

He handed it to me.

“For you.”

“He’s actually very ugly!”

We laughed together. “Yep. It’s decided. He’s ugly and cheap. I’m naming him Gianni.”

Sal’s brows rose.

“His head appears to contain nothing but synthetic filling.”

This time Sal laughed without holding anything back.

The sound made the arcade feel warmer.

I tucked Gianni-the-wolf beneath my arm and reached for another token.

“Again,” I said.

Sal looked at the air hockey table.

“Are you challenging me?”

“I’m destroying you.”

“Careful, bella.”

I smiled at him.

“Or what?”

The diner booth was cracked red vinyl, and it felt more dangerous than a negotiation table.

At a negotiation table, I knew the rules. Nobody asked questions unless they wanted leverage. Nobody offered food without counting what it cost.

Sal sat opposite me with his jacket folded beside him and his sleeves rolled up. Gianni-the-wolf occupied the space between us.

A server brought grilled cheese, fries, and a chocolate milkshake with two straws.

“I didn’t order that,” I said.

Sal looked at the milkshake. “I did.”