Page 205 of Rosetti Family New York
Emilio shrugs. "You've been wrong before."
The tension between them is palpable. I shift uncomfortably, painfully aware that I'm the cause of it.
"I'll show her to the east wing," Emilio says finally. "You deal with Dom."
Rafe looks at me. "You good with that?"
I nod, though my stomach churns with anxiety. "Sure."
Rafe gives Emilio a hard look. "Be nice."
Emilio's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Always am."
Rafe squeezes my arm briefly, then turns and walks back the way we came. I watch him go, fighting the urge to call him back.
"This way," Emilio says, already moving down the hall.
I follow, trying to keep up with his brisk pace. "So, are you the tech guy or something?" I ask, attempting to break the ice.
"Something like that." He doesn't slow down or look back.
We turn down another hallway, then another. The house is a maze, and I realize with growing unease that I have no idea how to find my way back.
"How many of you are there?" I ask. "Rosettis, I mean."
"Too many," Emilio replies. He stops suddenly at a door, producing a key from his pocket. "This is you. Bathroom through there. Don't leave without an escort."
The room he opens is like a hotel suite, only more impersonal. The bed could fit a family of five.
"There's a shower through there," he says, pointing to one of the doors. "And clothes in the closet."
I laugh nervously. "Please tell me the Rosettis have a grunge collection."
Emilio doesn't smile. "Why are you here?" he asks bluntly.
The question catches me off guard. "I—Rafe brought me. After what happened with Ethan."
"No," Emilio says, his voice soft but insistent. "Why are you involved in any of this? The Callahans, Dale, your friend's murder. What's your angle?"
"My angle?" I repeat, incredulous. "Maddy was my best friend. She was murdered. I want to know why."
Emilio studies me, his expression unreadable. "And that's it? No revenge fantasy? No secret agenda? No plan to run to Daddy with everything you find out?"
Anger flares in my chest. "My father has nothing to do with this."
"He's a cop."
"Ex-cop," I correct him. "And he doesn't know anything about what I'm doing. He thinks I'm focused on school, on my dissertation."
"And he has no idea his daughter is running around with the Rosetti family?" Emilio presses.
"No," I say firmly. "And I'd like to keep it that way."
Emilio watches me for a long moment, as if waiting for me to crack under his scrutiny. Finally, he nods. "Dinner's at seven. Someone will come get you." He steps back into the hallway. "The door locks from the outside."
Before I can protest, he closes the door. I hear the key turn in the lock, and then silence.
I'm alone in a strange room in a crime family's mansion, with no phone, no watch, and no way out. I sink onto the edge of the bed, overwhelmed. The comforter is soft under my fingers, but the enormity of the day's events weighs on me like a lead blanket.
