Page 72 of Twilight Mask

“Too many visitors,” I tell her, frowning deeply.

She blinks in surprise. “What’s that, hon?”

“Angelo was here already. What do you want?”

Mom flashes me that dazzling, disarming smile. The woman truly is gifted and charming. “I hear you have a problem, sweetie.”

I hesitate and narrow my eyes. “You heard correctly. My asshole brother is keeping me prisoner.”

“Your Don is doing what he thinks is best,” she corrects, but there’s something to her tone I can’t really place. “But I was wondering if you wanted some help with your problem.”

My eyebrows shoot up. “You can get me out?”

“Well, no, I can’t do that. I mean, I probably could—but I won’t. You know how it is, sweetie. Don’s orders and all that.”

“Then you’re useless. Goodbye, Mother.” I move to close the door.

She holds up a hand. “But I have an idea that might help.”

I hesitate. Two visitors in one morning is two too many. But if she’s serious?—

“You realize I’ve been seeing a member of the Santoro mafia, right?”

She looks at her nails. “Love is love.” Then she looks at me, grinning. “And hey, your father was in love with a Santoro too.”

I groan and look at the ceiling. She’s not kidding—Dad’s affair with Luciano Santoro is what started the war, and what inevitably ended it.

I’m tempted to tell her off, but I don’t have any idea how I’m getting out of this situation, and my mother knows this Famiglia better than anyone else, aside from Simon. If there’s a way, she can figure it out.

“Ten minutes,” I say, stepping aside. “Then I want to get back to work.”

“We won’t need that long, sweetie. Gosh, I’m so happy you’re finally coming out of your isolation, you know that? I’m really, really proud of you.”

“Please don’t talk like that anymore, or I will throw you out.”

She laughs and saunters into the kitchen, and I wonder if this was a big mistake.

Chapter 34

Marco

Ilose myself in the computer. It’s a pale, pathetic imitation of the real thing. Laura on the screen is beautiful, she’s incredible, her voice sends shivers down my spine, and I could watch her work for hours.

But it’s not a substitution for actually touching her.

Another couple days pass. If the world outside ceased to exist, I could be happy. All I’d need is Laura, plus the possibility of seeing her again, and that’d be enough to subsist on. It’s not a great existence, but it’s good enough.

I’m smitten. I’m stupid in love. It’s pathetic, and Valentina would despise me if she really understood how far gone I am, but I can’t change how I feel.

Except one thing bothers me. It nags at the back of my mind like a mosquito nibbling at my blood. It’s not until I look at the clock on the morning of the sixth day that I realize what’s happening, and there’s only one person in the whole world that might be able to make sense of it.

Ronan spends most of his time at a pizza place. Which is funny, because he’s Irish and not Italian, but everyone in the back of the house is either in his organization or trying to be a part of it. Once, a while back, I asked him why he doesn’t open a pub like all the other Irish do, and he just laughed at me. “Fucking pub? A fucking pub? When I have the most talented pizza chefs in the entire city? You’re insane.”

Now I find him at a table in the back corner. His Hispanic staff jokes in Spanish, and I know he’s half following along as he smiles to himself and taps at his phone screen. He doesn’t notice my approach until I’m sitting down in the chair opposite. “You have shitty security.”

He looks up, eyebrows raised. “Marco Vitale, in the flesh. You do realize my guys know who you are?”

“They still should stop me.”

---