Page 64 of Wicked Rivals

When I went back to the bedroom, Enzo hit me with one of his knowing looks, but no way would I try to explain that call.

“Hey, you saving me any of those yummy-looking waffles, buddy?” I asked.

“Nope, but the eggs are all yours.”

I couldn't help but laugh at his syrupy grin.

“And this is for you too, Mama.”

Enzo waved a white envelope with my name on it, and I snatched it playfully from his hand.

Stefano had left me a note.

God, he had beautiful handwriting.

Val,

Most of the men will be with me today, but I left my two best enforcers behind to protect you. The household staff know you’re not to be disturbed.

You may go anywhere in the house you’d like other than my office. Kitchen is on the ground floor. First floor has a theater and game room.

Do not go outside beyond the protection of this house. The enemy has high-precision weaponry, and I don't want them to get a shot at you or my son. Not even for one second, Val.

And you should keep Enzo out of the cellar.

Stefano

Well, okay then.

I stuffed the note into my pocket, making sure Enzo didn't see the letter. The last thing I needed was for him to ask questions about the cellar.

Cellars in mafia houses were all the same. Cold, dark, often soundproofed, and strictly on the Do Not Enter list.

Matters of a very specific type were taken care of down there. Issues far too sensitive to be handled aboveground and in plain sight. Issues that mob bosses often handled themselves because they required a certain, well, personal touch.

Just thinking about it made my skin crawl.

“If I'm not going to school, then what are we doing today, Mama?” Enzo asked.

“You know, buddy, I'm not so sure. But how about this? We start by reading a few more chapters in your book.”

As good a plan as any.

His eyes lit up, and he nodded, reaching for the book on the nightstand. Then he crossed his legs and balanced the open book on his lap.

“I'll read the first chapter while you eat, then you read the next one while I finish the waffles.”

I smiled and ruffled his hair, taking a seat beside him.

“Yeah, okay, sounds like a plan.”

He stopped flipping through the pages to look at me.

“Just don't touch my waffles.”

I couldn't help but laugh at his unexpected seriousness.

“Absolutely not. I promise.”

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