Page 36 of Convenient Mafia Vows

I walk outside of the lab, phone pressed to my ear. “What does that mean?”

“His personal number has changed, and his PA has been dismissed.”

“So, find another way to reach him. No one is unreachable, Lauren, not even from outer space.”

Brailand Voth is flying under the radar. I don’t know why this gives me such a sense of uneasiness. He isn’t part of a ‘family’; he isn’t a gambler; the IRS isn’t hunting him down for a million-dollar tax bill he’s been avoiding. He was born into wealth—unlike the Murrays—but we became best friends at high schoolwhen we both made the football team and have remained close ever since.

Until now.

He is still on my mind when we exit the penthouse elevator of the Wraith and find my mom on one of my sofas, a freshly brewed coffee in one hand.

Her face lights up when she sees me with Victoria, her brown eyes quickly appraising the woman by my side and settling on Abigail. Surprise registers momentarily in her eyes and vanishes just as quickly.

“Caleb!” She sets the cup down on the coffee table and is on her feet in an instant, crossing the room to take Victoria’s hands in hers. She kisses Victoria’s cheeks, and my chest floods with relief at the gleam in her eyes.

My mom likes her. I know this isn’t real, but her approval is important to me. My mom is the bravest, gentlest person I know. When she likes someone, she’ll give them the world if it’s within her grasp, but if someone crosses her, they’ll soon wish they’d walked in the opposite direction when they first saw her coming. She has an unfailing instinct when it comes to people.

Apart from when it came to my dad. Or maybe their violent relationship taught her to trust her gut. Either way, she takes no crap from anyone. Not even Terry. Especially Terry.

“I’m Moira, Caleb’s mom.” She arches an eyebrow my way. “When were you going to introduce us?”

I smile. I should’ve known Terry wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. I wonder how much he told her though.

“Soon, Mom.” My arm instinctively slides around Victoria’s waist, and I pull her close to my side. My mom notices, of course she does. “This is Victoria. And this—” I take Abigail’s hand and pull her in front of us “—is Abigail, Victoria’s niece.”

Her lips twitch upward at the corners. “Lovely to meet you both. Anyone who can drag my son away from his office is more than welcome in the family. Where have you been today?” She means, where have we been since Terry attended the crisis meeting this morning.

“Staten Island,” Abigail says. “I built a computer.”

Mom smiles. “You’ll have to show me sometime. I don’t know the first thing about computers.” This isn’t true. Terry doesn’t call her The Chef for no good reason. No one can cook the books as well as my mom can.

“We tried to get her into the Lutheran Prep Academy,” Victoria says, perhaps sensing an ally in my mom.

“But?” Mom’s gaze flits between the two of us. “Couldn’t Brailand help?”

“He’s gone AWOL.”

It isn’t until I say the words out loud that uneasiness solidifies in my stomach. Mason has gone AWOL too. Is there a connection? If so, it doesn’t take rocket science to figure out the common denominator—I’m the one who is searching for them both.

“Anything I can do to help, you just let me know,” Mom says, oblivious.

“Thank you,” Victoria says, extricating herself from my side, and it’s like a draft of cool air from an open window suddenly hitting me. She fits next to me like we were tailor-made for each other,and I have to remind myself that this kind of stuff only happens in the movies. Or at New Year’s costume parties. “It’s very kind of you.”

Mom must sense the note of despair in Victoria’s voice. “Hey, there’s no such thing as a problem that can’t be solved. Isn’t that right, Caleb?” She glances my way, but her attention is all on Victoria.

She knows something is going on, but she doesn’t know what. If she did, she wouldn’t be quite so subtle.

“Victoria and I have agreed to be married, Mom.”

Wow! That sounded way worse than I intended, but how else can I word it? If I said that we’re married, Mom would automatically assume that we’re in love and that this is the happy-ever-after she would wish on all her kids. When it is nothing more than an agreement. On both sides.

She isn’t saying anything.

“It’s just until I get Olivia Dragonetti off my back.” Like a cop in an interview room, Mom has this knack of remaining silent and forcing her kids to keep talking. It’s quite a skill. “Don Dragonetti offered to form an alliance with the Murrays, with marriage to his daughter as a condition.”

Still nothing. It would be easier if she yelled at me that I was making a huge mistake and messing with people’s lives, but yelling isn’t Mom’s style.

“I’m assuming you’ve made this official.” Mom’s tone is neutral; she isn’t judging my decision, she’s already a few steps ahead, working out the practicalities of a fake marriage.

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