Page 86 of Dirty Mafia Sinner
“And the drugs?”
My eyes grow wide. “Drugs?”
PopPop leans his head toward the phone. “Cat’s out of the bag. Emily told us, Riley.”
“She told you I’m on drugs?” I exclaim, shocked to my core.
“Not using. Dealing.” PopPop shakes his head with a disbelief that matches my own.
“What?” I screech. Unbelievable. “Emily told you I’m a drug dealer?”
I’m hyperventilating by the time I finish. How could Emily be this vindictive? Alessandro alluded she was disloyal. But I wasfocused on saving her life and didn’t believe him. I’m hurt my best friend would lie.
Tears spring into my eyes. “I swear to you, I never touched drugs or sold them. Her boyfriend—my boss—was the cokehead. You warned me about him, remember? And God knows, I regret dismissing you.”
“You didn’t run off with that horrible man?” Mema asks, confused.
I clench the iPad tighter. “Hell could freeze over twice before I’d date an asshole like Ciro.”
Hell is too good a place for him.
They look at each other. “Then why, Riley? Why did you run off?”
“I’m in love with someone.” Oh, Lord. Did I have to say it with such conviction? I don’t dare look at Alessandro. I loved him once. But then he was a different man. A stranger. “He took me to Europe. Except, like I said, my bag went missing. Cell service here is horrible, but I called as soon as I could.” Part truth. Part lie. “He’s kind and considerate.”
Alessandro makes a choking noise.
“Is he handsome,” Mema demands.
My cheeks heat as I answer truthfully. “The most handsome man I’ve ever met.”
“You see that, George. Riley really likes this fella. She’s blushing.”
Alessandro snorts, while I turn red. But what’s a little embarrassment when you can reconnect with the people you love, whether he listens in or not? They believe me. They trust me. Emily can choke on rotten eggs.
If only Alessandro would believe me as well.
“What’s his name?”
“His name, honeybunch?” I finally glance at Alessandro, who isn’t even hiding he’s eavesdropping. He nods.
“Al.”
“George, you hear that? Riley’s dating an Al.”
“Al have a last name?” my grandfather presses.
I squeeze my eyes shut for the briefest moment, then open them wide. “Mema, is that a new refrigerator?” I exclaim, gesturing animatedly. Guilt takes another stab at me. Avoidance is lying, but I don’t have a choice.
They turn to look at the same refrigerator that’s been in their house since I was a kid. “This old thing?” Mema huffs.
“New isn’t always better,” PopPop grumbles, the conversation turning to his least favorite—and Mema’s favorite—subject. Yet he’s a seasoned pro at dodging the refrigerator issue.
“When are you coming home?”
“Soon.” I stare over the iPad at Alessandro. “Sooner, after he grows tired of me.”
“Tired of you?” PopPop chuckles. “Not a chance. Any man worth a lick of salt can see my girl has a heart of gold.”
