Page 19 of Gin & Trouble

Me:Yes, and I can’t lose my job.

Dante:That will never happen.

Shit. Sophia was right.

Me:Can’t take the chance.

Dante:We’ll figure this out.

I hated the conversation and my stupid broken heart and being born an Abruzzo. Most of all, I hated that I’d followed my sister’s advice and played with his heart.

Me:Nothing to figure out. I’m not interested. Please don’t text or call me again.

Dante:Don’t do this.

I blocked his number, opened my dresser drawer, and dropped my phone inside. I didn’t want to see it for fear I’d lose my resolve and call him in the middle of the night. As much as it hurt, I could not and would not get involved with a Marchionni.

No matter how desperate the situation with my family became.

7

Frankie

By the timeMonday morning rolled around, I was completely over Dante Marchionni.

And denial is a river in Egypt.

I arrived at work to find my desk covered with flowers. At least I thought I still had a desk under there somewhere, but I couldn’t actually see the gray particle board to be sure.

The message on the card was simple, to the point, and felt like a gut punch.

J,

Miss you.

D

Iris, my friend, and only other female in the IT department, peeked over the top of my cubicle. “If those are any indication of how your weekend went, I want details.”

Frowning, I motioned to the arrangement. “They would be if they were wrapped with a black ‘Rest in Peace’ ribbon.”

“Ouch. The masked ball was a bust?” Iris wrinkled her nose and adjusted her glasses. “Was Danny a catfish?”

“Sort of.” I didn’t have it in me to discuss the horror show that was my weekend. “He absolutely wasn’t who he said he was.”

“Sorry, Julia. I know you were looking forward to meeting him.”

“Whatever. It’s over now. Lesson learned.” I glanced around trying to figure out where to put the flowers. “You want these?”

“Hell yes. They’re too pretty to end up in the trash.” She hurried to my cube, lifted the vase with two hands, and marched away.

Problem solved.

I settled in and threw myself into my work. Officially, I was tasked with developing a security program that used artificial intelligence to detect any irregularities or suspicious activity at any number of Marchionni owned properties. So far, my algorithms had performed mediocre at best, but soon they would be able to detect strangers onsite, variances in activity, and even medical emergencies.

Unofficially, I used my open access to their video surveillance recordings to keep track of their comings and goings in hopes of discovering proof they were working behind the Cosa Nostra’s back.

While Sophia was convinced Enzo was our half-brother, I thought it wise to have a plan B. Besides, what would it hurt to put some of our eggs in the blackmail basket?

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