She lowered her voice even though he was gone.
“People say his family controls half the things in this city nobody officially controls.”
I looked through the rain-streaked window.
Marco was being buckled safely into a car while Dante stood beside him, one hand braced over the door to shield his son’s head from the rain.
Whatever else Dante Russo was, in that moment he looked like what Marco had called him.
Papa.
“People say a lot of things,” I replied.
Maggie stared at me.
“That is not the normal response to discovering you just lectured a mafia boss about parenting.”
I groaned.
“Please don’t say it like that.”
“How else would I say it?”
The cab arrived twelve minutes later.
I went home believing that was the end of it.
It wasn’t.
The next morning, I reported for my shift at St.
Catherine’s at six-thirty.
My shoes were still damp, my umbrella had developed a bend in one rib, and I’d slept badly because every time I closed my eyes I remembered Maggie whispering Dante Russo’s name.
By seven-fifteen, the breakfast rush swallowed the memory.
Trays.
Coffee.
Oatmeal.
Complaints about eggs.
Normal problems.
Then a coworker told me somebody was asking for me near the cafeteria entrance.
My stomach dropped.
Nicholas Russo stood there.
He was alone.
“Please tell me Marco’s okay.”
His expression softened slightly.
“He’s fine.
Mild cold.
Nothing serious.”
I exhaled.
“Good.”
Nicholas held out my scarf.
It had been cleaned, dried, and folded into a neat square.
“Marco insisted this come back to you today.”
I took it.
“You came all the way here for a scarf?”
“He also insisted on this.”
Nicholas produced a small paper bag.
Inside was a chocolate chip cookie from a bakery.
I laughed before I could stop myself.
“That’s from Marco?”
“He said hospital food probably makes people sad.”
“He’s not entirely wrong.”
Nicholas almost smiled.
Then his expression became serious.
“I owe you an apology.”
That surprised me more than the cookie.
“For what?”
“The phone.
Last night.
I treated you like you might’ve done something wrong.”
“Your nephew was missing.”
