Page 2 of Mistletoe in the Mafia

She sighs. “Everything looks normal. Your heart is healthy and there’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Alright,” I say simply, getting to my feet.

Carly follows as I step out and head toward where my clothes are neatly folded. I start to put them on while she returns to the laptops and display machines, probably to delete evidence of my checkup. By the time she turns around again, I’m already dressed.

“Where are you off to now?”

“Somewhere,” I reply monotonously.

“Jackass,” she mutters. “I know you’re meeting up with Joshy tonight.”

“Somewhere,” I reply monotonously.

“Jackass,” she mutters. “I know you’re meeting up with Joshy tonight.”

“Okay, and?”

“I wasn’t invited,” she says on a pout.

“Yeah, you weren’t.”

“Fuck you, Dom. You guys always leave me out of everything,” she says sadly.

“We’re meeting for official business. It’s nothing personal, Queens.”

“You’re so annoying,” she says on a sigh. “Go, before Richard comes back in throwing a fit.”

I nod, turning around to leave. Then I think better of it and turn around.

“Hey, Queens. Thank you.”

She rolls her eyes. “There’s no gratitude between friends, Dom. If you really want to thank me, show up to my Christmas party.”

“That’s not happening.”

She narrows her eyes. “Ungrateful.”

“You just said there’s no gratitude between friends,” I point out. “See you later.”

“I’ll get you to that party one way or the other, Dominic,” she calls as I walk out of the room.

My phone buzzes in my hand as soon as I step out of the hospital. It’s a text from the Don.

Nicholas Ramirez: There’s a table meeting later today.

Me: So?

Nicholas: I know you’re not going to show up. I’m just obligated to inform you.

Me: Much obliged, Ramirez. What’s this meeting about?

Nicholas: The Russians.

Of course. They’ve been a thorn in our side the past couple of months. We’ve been toeing the edge of war, each side a potential bomb that’s set to explode. Although with the state of things now, I’d say it’s likely our side will blow first.

Me: How’s Volkov?

I send the text before I can think too much about it. It’s not in me to care, and while Adrian Volkov is a particularly annoying piece of shit, he’s also been through hell the past few months.

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