“This’ll be fun,” Anthony assures me, hugging my hip as we approach the entrance, our steps slowing. Lorenzo goes on ahead.
I know he’s probably lying to me, but the honey-coated reassurance in his voice and touch has a calming effect. Maybe that’s why I’m not shaking over what just occurred. Before Hugh ripped the bag over my head, revealing Anthony, I’d been ready to fight for my life, my body fueled by pure adrenaline and dangerously low levels of glucose. I thought for sure they were going to kill me.
One look exchanged with Anthony extinguished all of it. I felt … safe. Even in impossibly dangerous situations, I feel safe with him.
“Do you like to dance?” he asks as we walk inside the vast space.
The live band plays directly in front of us across the room while people pair up in front of it. Some are couples, others handfuls of women, a few kids. An actual disco ball hangs over their heads, and in the low lighting of the room, I’m much less conscious about my appearance.
“Umm,” I say, preoccupied with searching out the tables for plates of food. There are a few abandoned pieces of cake, but other than that, there’s no food that I can tell. It’s already nine, so it shouldn’t be surprising that they already ate and cut the cake, but even darting my eyes around is making me dizzy. I should’ve eaten hours ago.
“Do you think there’s any food left?” I ask him, my eyelids heavy.
Before he has a chance to answer, a man comes up behind him. He reminds me of Maksim with his broad shoulders and bulky chest, as well as the slightly irritated look on his face. The biggest difference is the dark hair, but the similar aura of power is heavy even before he says anything.
“Well?” he asks Anthony, tucking his hands in his slacks as his steps halt.
Anthony turns to face the man, his hand on my back to guide me forward. “Bailey, this is my brother, Settimo.” He extends his hand to the man I now know is the fucking don of the Italian mafia.
My heart palpitates.
“Hi,” I squeak, giving a small awkward wave.
The irritation on Settimo’s face vanishes as he seems to register my presence. His lips lift into a smile so charming it makes him twice less scary than he was moments ago. He holds out his hand, and I carefully take it.
“Pleasure to meet you… Bailey?”
I nod, grateful not to have to speak. If I did, I’m almost positive I’d stutter.
He lets go of my hand, letting the smile ease from charming to polite. “Would you mind if Anthony and I spoke in private for a minute?”
Again, I nod, this time with a nervous smile attached. I go to turn, but Anthony’s hand on my back stops me.
“That isn’t necessary,” he says. “Bailey is well aware of what the meeting outside was about. Maksim was bringing her to me.”
Settimo’s eyes narrow slightly like he’s confused and waiting for further explanation.
“We’ll be leaving soon, but I thought it’d be nice if you two finally met.”
The confusion etched into Settimo’s brow deepens. “Finally met?” His eyes move to me. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
“Bailey Fisher,” Anthony answers for me. “The woman I know from Freddy’s.”
Settimo doesn’t respond past a blank expression.
“Jesus, Settimo, the woman puts her life on the line for the familia, and you can’t even remember her name?” Anthony sighs before looking at me. I have no idea what he’s doing, and I’m sure my face shows that. “I apologize for my brother. He’s been very busy lately, so you’ll have to forgive him.”
He turns back to Settimo. “She’s the woman I’ve been using to get intel on the Russian arson situation.”
“Oh,” Settimo says, no recollection showing on his face.
“Maksim found out I didn’t kill her the night of our meeting and was pissed, but I filled him in on everything. We’re good.”
Settimo squints. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Anthony sighs again, frustration showing through. Faked frustration, though, right? What is he doing?
Lorenzo said he should “jump in front of” Settimo not knowing about me. Is he lying about who I am? About what happened?