Page 22 of Assistant to the Mafia

Where her boss, and his elder brother, sat waiting.

Romeo lowered his lips to her ear. “Don’t make me do something drastic.”

Grace sucked in a breath, her head whipping around. “How was that not drastic?”

He grinned. “She speaks.”

Heat rushed to her face and she averted her gaze. “Coffee, please. Maybe something with eggs if you don’t mind.” An omelet sounded amazing, actually, but she felt bad asking for one after everything he’d already done for her.

Romeo pulled out a chair several seats down from where Dante sat and prompted her to settle into it. “Fried, scrambled, omelet?”

“I’d recommend waiting for Cristiano to get here,” Dante said, looking up from his phone. “He’s always been the better cook.”

“Screw you,” Romeo snapped. “I can make breakfast.”

“That explains why you pay someone else to do it for you.”

Grace felt like a ping pong ball, her gaze bouncing back and forth as they bickered. Which was in itself somewhat unusual, at least for her. It only made her feel more self-conscious. “An omelet would be wonderful, please,” she said quietly.

Romeo shifted and his hand returned to her shoulder briefly. “Coming right up.” He offered her a grin when their gazes met, then stepped away and into his kitchen. Effectively leaving her alone with his brother.

Suddenly Grace felt nauseous again. She didn’t think she’d been this nervous to be in Dante De Salvo’s space when she’d first been lobbying for the assistant promotion.

Dante set his phone on the table. “Romeo says you got out mostly unscathed. Is that bruise the worst of it?”

She wished she’d at least done a better job of blow drying her hair. Romeo had gone through the trouble of setting his out for her and everything, but she’d barely let it touch her hair before rushing out of the room. She was such a mess. And her boss wanted to have a conversation.

Grace steeled herself and dragged her gaze properly up to his. She tried to pretend she was presentable and not wearing oversized men’s clothing that belonged to his brother and business partner. She tried to pretend it hadn’t been made abundantly clear that her relationship with Romeo had slipped beyond the boundaries of the professional. “Yes,” she said. Her hand twitched in an upward direction, but she refrained from poking at her jaw. It did hurt. “I presume that means you … heard what happened?” Not that she honestly felt as though she even understood what had happened, not really.

Dante inclined his head. “I imagine at this point I know more than you do about the events surrounding last night’s incident.”

His calm statement startled her all over again and Grace nearly jumped out of her seat when Romeo set a steaming mug of delicious-smelling coffee down in front of her. She glanced at it, noting that the shade was exactly how she preferred, and then up to him. “Thank you.”

He smiled at her, gave her shoulder another squeeze, and went back to the kitchen. Seconds later, the unmistakable sound of a sizzling pan drifted out.

Grace pulled the coffee closer and took a deep breath of the fragrant aroma. “If you don’t mind my asking,” she finally said, keeping her eyes on her drink, “what do you know?” She thought about asking how, but the simple truth was he was an obscenely wealthy man. Money opened doors and mouths.

Dante drummed his fingers on the table one time before answering. “So far, we’ve learned there were at least eight men involved in last night’s attack, which was without a doubt focused on you. What they intended to do with you, what their motives were, and whether or not there are other players behind the scenes we’ve yet to learn.”

Horror twisted inside her and Grace lifted her cup, taking a slow sip. She closed her eyes in an attempt to focus on the taste of it and not the sound of Dante’s words in her memory. Eight. What could she have done to earn such fury? It was like something out of a movie. She released a slow breath. “I only saw three….”

“There were four more in the hallway outside your apartment,” Dante replied. “Romeo identified seven assailants on-scene, but when my men reviewed the CCTV footage, it very quickly became clear there was an eighth.”

Grace held tighter to her cup, took another, larger, swallow, and lowered it to her lap. Her brow pinched as she looked over at her boss again. “You have access to the security footage?” It was starting to feel like she was missing a significant piece of this puzzle.

“Does the name Filip Tracey mean anything to you?” Dante asked.

Grace frowned. “Filip is the late-night valet,” she said. “He brings my car around in the mornings.” Sean’s urgent phone sprang to mind again, again cutting off with a resounding burst. Grace set the mug back on the table and leaned forward, breathing hard. “Oh, God, they’re dead. They’re both dead, aren’t they? Sean … tried to warn me. He’s the only reason I was even awake. I think I— But if they got to him, then Filip must also be—”

“You’re half right,” Dante said. “The doorman is dead. The footage shows he tried to keep the attack team out. Even once they opened fire, he resisted, but he never had a chance. The fact that he made the effort to call and warn you speaks to his character. Remember him that way, not as some poor hapless victim.”

A lump formed in Grace’s throat. “But it … was my fault.”

“No, angel,” Romeo said as he set a plated omelet directly in front of her. The fluffy, folded eggs bulged with melted cheese, chopped bacon, and just a peek of something green that might have been spinach. He caught her wide-eyed stare. “The men who decided to ambush and assault an unsuspecting, defenseless, innocent woman—those are the assholes responsible. Not you.” Romeo pressed his lips to her forehead, then angled around her and dropped himself into the chair on her left. Leaving just one between himself and his brother.

Just like that, she was flustered again. Her hormones were all out of whack. So Grace lifted the fork from the plate and tried to focus on slicing off one end of the breakfast that had been made for her. Wait. She glanced up again. “You said I was only half right.”

Romeo leaned back and she pictured him stretching out his legs under the table.

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