Page 27 of Assassin's Obsession

Money showers onto the stage around the bottom of the pole, but I barely notice it as I try to see Angelo's form through the gloom.

I can't of course. It's always shadowed in the VIP area, but tonight, with the blacklights the only illumination on the floor, it's stygian.

I finish my set to raucous applause and raunchy shouts, money falling like confetti on the stage around me. Picking it up, I'm riding the high of a perfect performance.

The Pitiful Princess may not be a musical on Broadway, but getting the choreography right for every bar of music feels awesome all the same.

Coming down off the stage, goosebumps form on my arms.

The sensation of Angelo watching me is even heavier than normal. Did he enjoy my new routine? Did he like when I stripped down to a sheer bra, pasties, my thong and glittery white wings?

Or is my body nothing more than the vessel of whatever person he is pretending to protect? Are his fantasies as active as mine, but with someone else playing the central role?

Even if he pretends I'm someone else, I wish he would request a lap dance. But he never does.

So, I'm not sure why my stiletto clad feet are moving me toward the darkness I always stay away from.

Chapter 10

ANGELO

My phone rings with a tone exclusive to one person.

My mother.

I'm tempted to ignore the call because I don't want to miss even a moment of Candi's set, but I answer. Severu and I have been waiting to see if Perla would reach out looking for information on behalf of her father, the Sicilian godfather.

I swipe to answer and the phone connects immediately to the earbud I wear constantly, but I still have to lift it close to my face to be heard on the other end through my mask. "What do you want Perla?"

"That is no way to answer the phone to your mother," she scolds me.

I don't bother to reply to the rebuke. She and I both know I don't care what she thinks of my actions. And I have no intention of engaging in pleasantries with this woman.

"I'm coming to New York. I would like to see you. Your stepfather has never met you, and he'd like to."

"I doubt that very much." She and Barone, husband number three and don over Calabria, a territory in Southern Italy, have been married for four years.

"Then you are mistaken. You are my son, regardless of how you wish to see yourself."

"I am not the one who decided not to be family."

"You didn't want to come to Sicily with me. What was I supposed to do, force you?" she asks in a tone meant to make me feel guilty.

"Haven't you figured out by now that playing victim with me is useless?"

"I would have thought that now you have a girlfriend, you would be more in touch with your emotions. You can't tell me the little stripper is fine with that dead eyed stare you're so good at."

Cold seeps into my limbs. Despite all my precautions and not claiming her yet, she knows about Candi. Which means the godfather does too.

"My life and anyone in it is of no concern to you," I warn her.

"How can you say that? Your grandfather and I are your only living relatives." Which means she knows that Henrico is dead.

Or strongly suspects it.

Don Caruso approved the hit, but that doesn't mean his Italian counterpart was happy with the plans they'd made for the succession being derailed.

Apparently, Don Caruso never told Don Messino that he planned to back Severu as the next godfather in America.

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