Page 60 of Ruthless Oath

I hadn’t given her much to look forward to the past few days. I took her against her will, threw away her phone, and locked her in her room. This certainly wasn’t the life she had become accustomed to.

I sat across from her and lifted the silver lid off my platter. The aroma of the pasta filled the air, and suddenly, I was ravenous.

“I got the house dressing.” I pointed to the little boat filled with Italian dressing. “I hope that’s okay.”

“It’s fine.” She poured some of it over the salad on the small plate next to her platter of pasta. “I’ve never had a bad meal from here.”

“We used to go all the time when Milo and I were kids. Jojo, the owner, would make us ice cream sundaes.”

“With marshmallow sauce and cherries?”

“Yes.” I smiled. “I haven’t thought about that in years.”

“I wonder if he made those for all the local mobsters’ kids.” She laughed. “I’m surprised we never ran into one another while we were there.”

“We stopped going after my mother died,” I said. “It was her favorite restaurant, and my father couldn’t deal with the memories.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“A few years ago, Milo and I decided to go on her birthday. We keep up the tradition every year, but we don’t let the old man know.”

“I don’t remember your mother.”

“She died twelve years ago, so you would have been too young to remember when our families were civil to one another.”

“They weren’t always rivals?” She twirled some spaghetti around her fork.

“They didn’t start out as enemies.” I sipped the vodka from the glass Ricardo left by my platter. “But that was a long time ago.”

“Before your mom died?”

Before she was murdered.

“Which pasta is your favorite?” I asked, no longer wanting to discuss my mother and her untimely death.

“The penne in the vodka sauce.”

I appreciated that she took the hint.

“I like that one too.”

“What? We have that and the cheesecake in common?” She bit into a piece of bread. “And we’re not fighting? What a night.”

“I never would have guessed it.”

“It’s a good thing you saved my life at the auction or your life would be so boring.”

I could use a little boring.

The rest of the dinner conversation was light and uncomplicated. I asked her about NYU, and she inquired about the dealership. I appreciated the effort she put in to honor my request and take a break from our usual tension-filled banter. As much as I enjoyed sparring with her, I wasn’t in the mood tonight. I had too much on my mind.

“Are you okay?” She set her fork down. “You’re quiet.”

“Am I?” I finished another glass of vodka, silently thanking Ricardo for leaving the bottle. “I like listening to you talk.”

“That’s not true.” She swirled her finger around the rim of her glass. “Most times, you can’t wait for me to stop talking.”

“Do you want me to get another bottle of champagne?”

---