Page 122 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

Without too much intrusion.

Sure, my brothers dropped by and met her, but they kept the visits short. And, honestly, Nico and Cesare were probably just jealous that they Leo and Zeno got to meet her a while back already.

“I know you said casual, but casual feels wrong when I know your brothers are basically always in suits,” Caitlin said as she walked down the hall, her heels clicking on the hardwood.

She’d gone full fall with this one.

It was a floor-length shirtdress that buttoned all the way down in a plaid pattern of maroon, navy, brown, and white. She belted it to draw in her waist and paired it with brown boots.

It was the first time she’d been out of comfy clothes since we’d come back from the cabin, and I was having a hard time holding myself back from undoing all those buttons and making us really fucking late for dinner.

“That’s perfect. You look great.”

“It’s not trying too hard?”

“No. You look amazing.”

“Can you check my hair again?” she asked, turning her back on me so I could make sure her stitches—and the bald spot around the wound—were hidden in the carefully pulled back style she’d worked on for over an hour.

“All hidden.”

“Okay. Good. I’m ready to go then.”

“Nope. You’re forgetting something?”

“What?” she asked as she smoothed her hands down her dress.

“This,” I said, producing a set of colorful permanent markers. “You’re going to have a lot of people asking to sign your cast.”

She beamed at that, tucking the markers into her purse then following me out of the apartment.

“Alright. If I remember correctly, Lorenzo is the capo dei capi, right?”

“Right.”

“And Giana is his wife.”

“Yep.”

“Do you always have family dinner at their house?”

“No. Most family dinners are just immediate family. But everyone wants to meet you. So we’re going to Enz’s townhouse, which is the biggest house, so everyone can fit. Sorry, am I stressing you out?”

“Nope. We already established that I don’t have the social anxiety thing. I’m excited. So long as no one impales themself on a steak knife or goes missing under mysterious circumstances, I think I’ll be good.”

By the time we reached the brownstone, it was already nearly bursting at the seams.

The noise hit me as soon as the doors opened, making my spine stiffen.

Maybe Caitlin sensed it. Or maybe she just wanted to project a united front. But she reached for my hand and entwined our fingers.

“Nugget!” Zeno called as soon as we stepped inside.

He was wearing a pair of pinstripe slacks that he’d cut off at the knees, black boots, a T-shirt, and a tie.

“Nice outfit,” Caitlin said, sounding genuine as she accepted the one-armed hug from him.

“Nice cast. You got room on it for me?”