Page 87 of Immoral

"What does that mean?"

"Since when do you ask me for only a tiny thing?"

"This time, it's true. Plus, you know I always take care of you. I don't remember you complaining when I expressed my thanks and threw you some cash last time you helped me."

She grumbles, "Fine. If it's not tiny, you owe me double."

I veer left and accelerate past several cars. "I need you to get me a reservation at Marco's for tonight."

A laugh fills the line.

"What's so funny?" I ask.

"You do realize it's Friday night, and Marco's has a nine-month waiting list."

I speed up and enter the expressway. "So? What's the big deal? Work your magic."

"Ugh! You're so out of reality."

"Five grand if you can make it happen."

The line turns silent.

I glance at the dashboard screen. Her name is displayed. "Pina, are you still there?"

Her voice is full of disbelief. "You're going to pay me five grand to get you a dinner reservation?"

"Tonight. Seven o'clock."

"Jeez, why don't you get a little more specific."

My grin widens. "Make sure I have a good table. The more private, the better."

"Good Lord! You're seriously pushing it," she claims.

"It's five grand. You don't want a handout, right?" I ask, knowing how much Pina hates not earning her money. She grew up on the wrong side of the Bronx. Maybe it's why she can deal with Dante and the rest of us when we need something. Perhaps it's what made her turn her eye to all the shady shit we do. But she pulled herself up out of poverty, and she didn't do it with anyone's help. She earned everything she has, and whenever she's seen others try to take advantage of us, she's the first to call them out.

She sighs. "You're such a bastard."

"Yep. I know. Shouldn't you get off the phone and get me my table? Time's ticking," I taunt.

"Another a-hole comment. Do you think about how to be a jerk, or does it come naturally?" she fires, but I can hear her smile through the phone.

"It's totally natural. One of my true talents," I reply.

"Ha! I bet!"

I swerve across three lanes and cut someone off to exit the expressway. "Gotta go. Text me when it's taken care of." I hit the button to disconnect the call and turn up the music. My go-to 80s station blares out Starship's "We Built This City." I tap my fingers on the steering wheel and pull into the shipping docks.

My chest tightens when I pass the road I'd turn to get to the Abruzzos territory. It takes everything I have not to turn and start shooting anyone I come across.

I count to thirty before I get to our area and park next to the door. Rubio is waiting when I step inside.

"Gianni. Wait until you see this," he says, his eyes twinkling with excitement.

It makes me antsier to see the diamond. I ask, "Where is it?"

Rubio pulls a jewelry bag out of his pocket. He reaches inside, informing me, "Ettore already set it on the band." He removes it and hands it to me.

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