Page 62 of Married With Malice

“Nothing. You just seem kind of unfulfilled. Why not go back to teaching at the ice rink?”

“Do you want me to decorate the house or get a job? Make up your mind.”

She’s still hugging that tablet to her body like it’s a freaking shield that can somehow ward off my advances. Her defiantly raised chin is back.

It was not my intention to start an argument.

“I was thinking about going into the city,” I say.

Her shoulders slump just enough to notice. Her eyes shift away. “Then I won’t keep you. Have fun.”

“Come with me. We’ll go see the Rockefeller Center tree, admire the lights, skate at the rink.”

Slowly, her eyes settle back on my face. There’s caution within, a search for a trick. “It’ll be crowded,” she says but this isn’t a refusal. I could swear there’s a note of hope on the end.

“So what? We could even make a night of it, stay in a hotel.”

Her arms relax a little. The corners of her lips twitch, a sign that she’s holding a smile at bay. She’s on the verge of speaking when my phone goes off.

And it’s Richie’s ringtone. Shooting Anni a look of apology, I hold up one finger and make a plan to get rid of my uncle as soon as possible. Ignoring the call isn’t an option. He’ll just keep calling back until I answer and by then he’ll be pissed.

I’ve hardly put the phone up to my ear when he starts popping off about a problem at one of the Atlantic City properties. It’s not a small problem. A beef with a local politician has escalated and now he’s trying to strong arm the state into shutting the place down. He’ll need to be enticed to drop the matter.

“He’s got a price tag,” I tell my uncle. “We’ll find out what it is.”

Richie’s a dog with a bone when he gets worked up about something and he won’t quit carrying on until I agree to make the drive to Atlantic City tonight.

By the time I hang up, Anni has heard enough to grow sullen once more. I’ll make it up to her if she gives me a chance. But she starts backing away the second I reach for her hand.

“I should have been quicker,” she says. “Sounds like you’ve already made other plans.”

“We’ll do this another night,” I say. “I promise.”

“In the meantime, I’ll just wait to be of service to you.”

“Anni, you know that’s not what I meant.”

“No, Luca. I don’t know what you mean at all. But someone somewhere needs a gun waved in his face so you should go follow Richie’s orders and make yourself useful.”

“Look on the bright side. You can get back to ogling hockey players. Or whatever you were doing.”

Her cheeks flush and she sniffs out a testy noise. “I don’t feel obligated to tell you everything. Just like you don’t tell me everything.”

“You’re right.” I grab my keys and head for the door. “I don’t.”

After I’ve slammed the side door harder than I meant to, I stand on the other side for a moment and consider returning to the house to patch things up. The temperature is dropping rapidly and my breath comes out in a frost cloud.

There are no magic words that would fix everything. And there’s an unpleasant job to do. I shoot a text to Monte to let him know what’s up tonight. I can pick him and Nico up at their apartment before making the drive to Jersey. I’m in no mood for polite diplomacy so this field trip ought to be quick. I expect to be back before morning.

And after a quick gun check, I’m on my way without looking back.

13

ANNALISA

With Christmas now only a week away, the selection of store decorations has been entirely picked over. Options are limited.

My solution is to wheel a cart down the aisle and throw everything into the basket, no matter the color or style. Among the finds are lengthy pinecone-studded fake evergreen garlands, plaid tablecloths with mismatched napkins, a four-foot-tall pastel nutcracker, and throw pillows featuring a drunk Santa Claus.

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