Page 107 of Caught Up

Beside him, Stefan nodded in agreement.

Alec glared at them. “Fuck you both.”

Josh brushed past me, voice low. “Booze?”

I nodded emphatically. I was going to needallthe alcohol to get through this.

The Trocci brothers continued to rib one another for a few minutes before their parents finally joined us. I tried to tamp down my curiosity about what had held them back. I didn’t take it as a good sign that Moira’s martini glass was empty and the first thing she did was beeline toward the drink cart.

“How’s work been?” Nico asked Aly.

“Fine,” she said.

“Any standouts?” Alec asked.

“I got to assist in a finger reattachment a few weeks ago. Those are always fun.”

Nic went completely still at my side, and I nearly fumbled the drink Josh handed me.

Alec grimaced. “How does something like that even happen?”

His cousin shrugged. “Saw blades, kitchen accidents. This one happened to a semipro basketball player during practice. He went up to dunk, and his wedding ring caught on the net. The weight of his body falling just,shwoop, popped the finger right off.”

Gross, but I still exhaled in relief. For a second there, I was worried she’d treated McKinney, but I should have known better. This city was huge, with several ERs, and while Nic had told me he had shitty luck, I knew no one’s could bethatbad.

“What about you, Lauren?” Nico Senior said. “How wasyourwork week?”

“Good,” I told him. If he was hoping to shame me or put me in my place by bringing up my job, he was sorely mistaken. Everyone here knew what I did, and I wasn’t about to tiptoe around it. “I gained twenty new subs, got ahead of my filming schedule so Nic and I could spend the rest of the weekend together, and heard back from another city councilmember willing to back the Expanded Safeties for Sex Workers Act. How was yourweek, Mr. Trocci?” I smiled and took a sip of my martini, and I swore I heard a lowoohfrom Josh.

“It was fine,” Nico said, sliding one hand inside his pocket. “Would have gone a lot easier if someone wasn’t slacking off.” A pointed look at his eldest told us exactly whom he was speaking about.

Moira shook her head. “No shoptalk until after dinner.”

Nico’s expression shifted into remorse, and he tipped his head toward his wife. “Apologies.” Somehow, he looked like he actually meant it, eyes soft, smile just for her.

The sight was unsettling. I wanted him to justbean asshole, all the time, like my father was. This turning on and off the charm was confusing as hell, kept lulling me into a false sense of calm before my brain kicked back on and reminded me that this was the same man who had threatened my safety as a teenager and washell-benton turning his sons into soulless mobsters.

“Mrs. Trocci?” a heavily accented voice said.

I turned to see amiddle-agedwoman standing in the doorway.

“Are we ready?” Moira asked.

“Sì,” she said, before continuing in Italian. I only caught every other word. I spoke what I liked to call restaurant Italian, meaning I could order off a menu and hold the most basic of conversations. Anything deeper than that, and I was lost, and lord help me if someone started speaking fast.

I caught just enough to figure out that dinner had been served, and thinking ahead, I downed the rest of my martini and scooped one of the last two off the drink cart. Aly grabbed the other one, and we shared a conspiratorial glance before turning and following our significant others into the dining room, where the real show began.

33

Junior

As far as dinners withmy family went, this one didn’t even rank in the top three worst. Yet. But the night was young, and from the way Dad kept glancing between me and Lauren, there was still plenty of time for it to go off the rails. Everyone else seemed to understand that, too, taking longer to eat than usual, dragging the meal out with idle chatter.

Despite the forced levity, the tension just kept building, brewing out of sight like a storm on the horizon. Dad’s answers became increasingly terse. A deep groove formed between his brows as he frowned down at his plate.

“Maria!” he finally snapped, and in swept my family’s housekeeper and cook.

“Sì?” she said, wiping her hands on her apron.

---