Underboss (With Me in Seattle Mafia 1)

“Ah, makes sense now.”

She smiles and leans back as our lunch is served. Once the waiter bustles away, she eats a fry and then keeps talking.

“These bags are made by hand, here in France, by artisans. Each one takes a lot of hours to make…”

I sit and watch her perfect face as she talks, using her hands for emphasis, explaining in detail how every product makes its way to a storefront.

Her enthusiasm is contagious. I don’t need a bag, but she has me ready to run out and buy the first one I see.

“And here I thought you were all about the family,” I reply when her story winds down.

“I am.” She takes a bite of her sandwich. “It’s always the priority and will be until the day I die. But this is a fun hobby.”

“An expensive one.”

“Says the man who bought a ten-thousand-dollar watch in New York.”

“It wasn’t secondhand.”

Her laughter is a drug.

“Have you spent much time in Paris?” she asks.

“Not as much as you,” I reply. “And I’ve only really seen the most touristy of places.”

“Then we’ll avoid those.” She chews thoughtfully. “Will you think I’m weird if I suggest a cemetery?”

“Are you planning to kill me, then?”

“No. I’ve heard about a really beautiful cemetery here in Paris. If you’re up for it, we could go check it out this week. The weather’s beautiful.”

“I’m game.”

“Bet you never thought you’d be hanging out with me in a cemetery, did you?”

“Honestly, I never thought I’d be with you at all.” I push my finished plate aside.

“Same.” She rests her chin in her hand. “I told my father about us coming here.”

I raise a brow in surprise. “And what did he say?”

“He didn’t seem to care in the least.”

“And if he did?”

She sighs and glances down at her empty cup of coffee. “If he’d been angry or forbade it, I wouldn’t be here.” Her eyes find mine again, and I see the heaviness in them. “We have responsibilities, Carmine. To our fathers. I love him. I respect him. And, at the end of the day, I guess I’m trying to prove something to him. So, as much as I wish I could say that I’d tell him I’m a big girl who can call her own shots, I know that’s not the case.”

“I understand.” It sits like a lead ball in my stomach, but I do understand. Because I’d do the same thing.

I, too, had a conversation with my father before we came to Paris. And if he’d been unhappy with it, well, I’d be in Seattle.

Alone.

“Do you ever wish we weren’t…?” She waves her hand in the air, not finishing the sentence.

“Intelligent? Wonderful? Wealthy? Witty?”

“Part of the organization, you moron,” she interrupts with a laugh. “And, I should add, modest.”

“No.” I reach for the check and put my credit card in the leather folder. “I don’t wish that. Do you?”

“No. I’m not like Annika. She hates it. Wants to be as far removed from it as she can. But I always found it fascinating.”

“Maybe it ties in with your love of history,” I suggest, and she nods.

“I think so. Our family goes back generations. To Russia. I used to love sitting on my father’s knee and listening to him tell stories from his childhood about his parents—and theirs. My family has been in our line of business for hundreds of years.”

“That’s something we have in common.” I sign the check and reach for Nadia’s bags. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

“I could use a little rest.”

* * *

We’ve just reached our suite when I get a call from Rocco.

“Isn’t it the middle of the night there?” I ask.

“Early morning,” he replies. “Just giving you a heads-up. Someone broke into Gram’s house last night.”

I narrow my eyes and watch as Nadia sets her new bags in the closet, then starts taking her clothes off. “What the fuck?”

“What is it?” she asks, but I hold up my hand.

“The alarm went off at about two this morning,” he continues. “Our security was there within ten minutes, and the cops came five minutes later. A window was broken. I don’t know what they took. If anything. They didn’t make much of a mess.”

“I wonder if they were looking for something specific.”

“If they were, they found it and bailed. No prints. They took out the cameras.”

“Damn it.”

“Yeah, I know. We’re locking it down, and I’m going to live there for a while. It’s not good that it’s been sitting empty for this long. We need to sell it, Carmine.”

“And do what with all of her shit?” I rub a hand over my face. “I’ll be home in a couple of weeks. Let me know if this happens again.”

“Will do. Have a good vacation.”

He clicks off, and I turn to find Nadia watching me with concern. “What happened?”