I watch him closely for a reaction, because this is important to me. I need to know if there really is a sizeable payout involved here. As usual, he shows nothing in his expression, just watches me back.
“You said enough to buy a new car. What are we talking about? Twenty grand? Thirty?”
He nods. “Thirty, for sure. More if you earn it.” There’s nothing lewd about the way he says it, but my mind instantly jumps to filthy sex and my body revs up, eager to get busy earning all the riches it can get. “Why you need it?”
I frown at the intrusive question.
“I know there’s a story you don’t want me to know.”
Funny how any possible answer gets stuck in my throat, and I’m caught staring up at him like a trapped animal. “H-how do you know that?” I manage.
He tips his head to the side. “It’s my business to read people.”
So he can blackmail them.
I push that thought out of my head.
Somehow I recover from the swift pain that always accompanies thinking about Jasper. I fold my arms over my chest. “You’re right. I don’t want you to know.”
His lips twitch and he taps my nose. “I’ll find out.” His words are mild. It’s not a threat. And yet his certainty, and the certainty that anything in my life he wants to fuck with, he can, sends chills running down my spine.
I want to snap at him to stay out of it, but I bite my lip. The more emotion I show, the more he’s going to know this is an issue I hold close to my heart.
It’s not like his knowing would do any harm—it wouldn’t. But this is a subject I can’t bear to talk about, even with my own mom. It fucking slays me. And I’ve already fallen apart once on Junior this morning. I don’t plan on a repeat show today or ever.
“I had Paolo bring in some food. I wasn’t sure what you like to eat, but there’s plenty down there. Go and help yourself.”
“After I get this sheet changed. I need you to lift.” I jerk my head in the direction of the bed.
“Okay, doll.” I swear I detect amusement in Junior’s tone, like he thinks it’s funny I’m bossing him around.
I know it’s insane, but I can’t help it. Bluster is what I do when I’m nervous.
I give him instructions on lifting Gio using the existing sheet so I can slip the new one underneath, and I get the thing changed out to my satisfaction. As I walk out with the soiled sheets in my arms, I pass Paolo, who I now realize is another Tacone brother. He watches me as I go, but doesn’t greet me or comment.
Downstairs, I find a variety of takeout from Starbucks—a steaming latte and egg sandwich, bagels, muffins. There’s also a bag of groceries sitting on the counter that hasn’t been put away.
I take the liberty of unloading it.
Four pints of my favorite Ben & Jerry’s. I shove back the appreciation that bubbles up. My past relationships starved me in the gifts department. Someone buying my mint cookie ice cream is no reason to go moony.
I fix myself a bagel with cream cheese and sit down to eat.
I can get through this. If we take really good care of the wound, Gio should be stable in a week. Then I’ll get paid a big chunk of money, which I can use to step up the efforts to find Jasper. Find where my asshole ex has holed up with our son.
I’m doing this for Jasper.
That thought calms me. Makes it all easy. I can deal with Junior Tacone and all that comes with this job if it means getting my little boy back.
* * *
Junior
“Nico and Stefano are flying in this afternoon,” Paolo says, his focus on Gio, not me.
“What for?” I bristle.
“Because he’s our brother!” Paolo spits back.
“And did you tell Alessia and Ma?” I demand. I already know he didn’t. We Tacones have a code that involves not worrying the women of the family.
“Of course I didn’t. They don’t need to know. Nico and Stefano are part of business.”
“Are they?”
They’re not, really. We’re part of their business, because La Famiglia put up the money to start Nico’s Vegas casino and now we’re all shareholders of the corporation. But Nico hasn’t been part of of our business in over ten years. And this outfit isn’t a fucking democracy. They don’t get to weigh in just on the merit of being my brothers. Neither does Paolo, for that matter. But my tenure as head of the family is by nature rocky, because technically our father is still don, and any one of the fuckers can go run to him if they think I’m fucking things up.
“Well, they understand business, anyway.” Paolo shoves his hands in his pockets, in a posture of concession.