Page 60 of Pretty Little Disaster

“It’s been a while.” Aunt Elena kisses my cheek before she sees me in through the door.

“I apologize for that, though I see you are doing well for yourself.” I glance around the three-story townhouse she’s living in now.

“Donald is resourceful, and works away…a lot.” She raises her eyebrows as she makes her way over to the liquor cabinet.

“And Donald is husband number…”

“Three, since your uncle passed.” She allows sadness to cloud her eyes, but only for a second.

“I don’t think you came here to discuss my marriages though, did you Nic?” She lifts up the decanter and I shake my head in refusal.

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs, pouring one for herself before she perches on the edge of the couch.

“So, what do you need to know?” She gets straight to the point.

“I need to know who people are hiring these days.” I’m sure her house staff can be trusted, but I glance around to make sure we’re alone.

“You're asking me?” She laughs.

“I’ve been working privately for Dario for over a year now, I’m out of the loop,” I admit.

“Mmm, there has been a gap in the market,” she sniggers, lifting her cigarette case and selecting one before placing it between her lips and waiting for me to light it for her.

“Come on, you can’t convince me that you don’t still have contacts. You don’t just stop being a fixer because Donny, or whatever husband number three’s called, knows how to invest.” I keep my voice low.

“It sounds to me like someone wants to go back on the books.” She raises her eyebrow and takes a long drag of her smoke.

“That’s not why I came here. I need information about a hit that was carried out a few months ago. I need to know who did it.”

“You know how this works, Nic. Even if I knew, I couldn't tell you.” She shakes her head as if she’s disappointed in me for asking.

“Elena, come on, we’re family.”

“Not by blood.”

“Don’t give me that shit, you adored Uncle Demetri. Some of the best memories of my childhood were spent with the two of you.”

“He would have killed for a son like you.” She smiles fondly. “You made him proud, you made us both proud.” She reaches over to place her hand on top of mine. “But that still doesn’t change the code of conduct.”

“All I need to know is if someone came to you and asked for a hit on this guy.” I take out the picture Dario gave me with his file and show it to her. She does me the courtesy of putting on her glasses and studying the photo for a while, before taking them off and shaking her head.

“No.” She looks almost offended as she clears her throat.

“So, you didn’t send anyone to Malibu in June, with an order to shoot this man in the head?” I ask again.

“There are other fixers in this city, Nic.” She sips from her glass tumbler.

“But you’re the person people come to, first. Elena, this man is the father of someone very special to me,” I explain, knowing the hard-assed bitch has a heart buried somewhere. I’ve seen it for myself once or twice.

“And would that someone special be the woman that's carrying your child?” She looks back at me cleverly.

“How did you–”

“Madalina actually takes the time to call her lonely, old aunt.” She looks back at me judgingly. “I even got an invitation to the baby shower, but I’m intolerable to those kinds of things.”

“I just need to know who ordered the hit, so I can be assured she’s not in any danger.” I get us back to the reason I’m here and she holds her hand back out for the picture.

“Can I keep this?” she asks when I give it to her.

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