Page 51 of Assistant to the Mafia

Romeo let himself into Dante’s office shortly before their scheduled noon-time meeting. Seeing that his brother wasn’t on the phone or in the middle of a video call, he said, “Got a text from Cris. He’s about done with that leftover from the attack on Grace at her apartment the other night.” He dropped into a chair across from Dante’s desk. “Sounds like he’s mostly just confirmed the Ink Blot theory, and that Filip Tracey orchestrated the assault for some fucking reason.”

Dante frowned and sat back in his chair. “Tracey didn’t look like the gangster type.”

Romeo shrugged. “Cris thinks that’s all this guy knows.”

“Then we need to work harder to find the man himself.”

Romeo inclined his head. He was more than happy to get his hands on the bastard who’d put together a plot that could well have cost Grace her life. “And you’re sure he wasn’t one of her kidnappers?”

“Tracey’s description doesn’t fit any of the men who were in the car they pulled Grace from,” Dante replied. “Seems like the officers got a decent look at the one who got away, and that one matches a different name on our list.”

That was new information. Romeo raised a brow.

“Cezar Barros.”

Romeo cursed. Barros was confirmed to be a higher-ranking member of the Ink Blot gang, and was responsible for having previously abducted Felicity. By the time they’d found her, the man had been in the wind. Causing trouble and then disappearing again seemed to be a skill of his. But his presence only reinforced the notion that the Ink Blots had Grace in their sights, and Romeo could only think of one possible reason.

“Do you want the coup de gras? Or should I tell Cris to wrap it up?” Dante asked.

Romeo opened his mouth to answer, but hesitated when another thought popped into his head. “Did you ever figure out what happened with the Delta crew?” Delta was a nightshift cleanup crew, anyway, so there was no guarantee that whatever problem had occurred to make their work so sloppy would carry over into dayshift. But without knowing the cause of it, there was also no guarantee it wouldn’t.

Dante grunted, a sure sign of irritation. “It boils down to incompetence,” he said. “Apparently, they were functioning short-handed, and instead of reporting the problem or passing on larger assignments as per protocol, the crew leader decided they could ‘power through.’” His lips curled in a faint sneer as he repeated what had undoubtedly been another man’s words.

Romeo stared at his brother in momentarily stunned silence. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I am not.”

He sucked in a breath, anger burning in his chest. “There are reasons for those protocols.” His hands clenched into fists. “I’ll shoot that motherfucker myself.”

Dante inclined his head. “You’ll have to aim that fury elsewhere. I already lost my temper on that subject. The rest of the old Delta crew has been relieved of duty or reassigned. A new Delta will be formed in the next few days, until then, we’re one night crew short.” A dangerous, yet contradictorily reassuring, smirk tipped Dante’s lips. “Regardless, the old crew has a fresh respect for the rules—and the consequences.”

Romeo blew out a breath. “I guess I’ll make my peace with that, then.” He paused. “Cris can have this one. That punk’s not really who I want.”

“You want Tracey.”

“I do.” Romeo pushed to his feet. “Also, I was gonna head out a little early this afternoon. Can you bring Grace home when you’re done for the day?”

Dante raised a brow, scooped his phone off the desk, and also stood. “You want me playing escort for your fiancée?”

“Not every day,” Romeo said, rolling his eyes for dramatic effect. “We both know she’s prone to working too late. I imagine I can’t make her quit that habit altogether, but while she’s being actively targeted, she really shouldn’t be doing that. And I need a little time to get some shopping done.”

Dante hummed. “I suppose that can be arranged, then.”

A soft tap on the door preceded the woman in question poking her head into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but it’s time to get going.” She pushed the door wider at seeing them already on their feet.

Dante led the way from the room and Romeo lingered by the door to steal an arguably inappropriate and frustratingly chaste kiss. Grace pushed him forward so she could close the door again, then fell in behind him as they continued to the main conference room. He could see two men in suits stepping from the elevator, arriving tastefully early to the meeting, so she clearly had not misspoken. It was time to play businessman again.

Grace was thankful there weren’t a lot of meetings on deck for the day. It enabled her to focus mostly on catching up on what she’d missed and get back to the project of finding a new assistant for Romeo. Several applications had landed on her desk while she’d been away. She didn’t want to think about the size of the pile that hadn’t made it to her.

She caught herself staring, motionless, down at the photo of a modest-looking young woman, three years younger than her, on the next application. The woman was adequately educated, had decent experience, and arguably showed a fair deal of promise. If nothing else, the woman had ambition. Grace couldn’t begrudge her that—that was one of the things that had worked in her own favor at nearly the same age.

The woman’s name was Jules. Not Julia or Julie, and not Juliet, but Jules. Already, Grace could hear the coffee room snickering. Romeo with an assistant named Jules would be gossip-worthy for a while, whether there was anything to actually gossip about or not.

Grace found herself struggling in a way she hadn’t prepared for.

She couldn’t call it jealousy. She couldn’t call it anger. She didn’t know what to call it, but she disliked it immensely. Jules had done nothing to her, yet Grace wanted very much to tear up her application and pretend it had never landed on her desk at all. At the very least, she wanted a damn good reason to deny it. Just imagining the tasteless jokes she might overhear made her want to dump hot coffee all over some equally imagined man’s expensive suit.

But this wasn’t really about her. Jules was trying to further her own career, to better her life. What was wrong with that? And what if Jules was capable?

---