Page 78 of Lies like Rubies, Part One

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NICK

I ranmy hands through my hair, frustrated and worried as the building emptied. Sirens blazed through the spring air outside my clinic in response to a bomb threat. The loud wailing accompanied the sounds of my dreams frittering away as I imagined the mafia moms abandoning me in droves, my clinic no longer a haven for their precious, budding monsters.

Goddamit.

My receptionist had received the threat and, bless her, did the exact right thing. She took copious notes, called the cops, and then hit the fire alarm to empty the building.

While one cop strode over to ask me questions, I straightened up from where I leaned against the building across the street.

“What can I do for you, officer?”

“Your receptionist is an angel,” he said. “She did everything exactly right.”

“But you didn’t find any evidence of a bomb?” I asked, ignoring the compliment to Clara.

“Sounds like it might have been a prank. She mentioned that the caller told her he didn’t ‘share.’ Do you know what that might be about?”

I startled. “Say that again?” Fuck. That could only be about Sofia. Goddammit, I knew that woman was a bad idea. I knew getting tangled with a mafia princess would lead to my ruin, and I’d done it anyway, like the lovesick fool I was.

“That’s correct, sir.”

I laughed softly. “I don’t know anything about that. It was probably some kid with a script he downloaded from the Internet.”

The cop eyed me suspiciously but didn’t follow up with more questions. What could he ask? I was a regular pillar of the goddamned community. I volunteered. I donated. I never got so much as a parking ticket, so determined was I to avoid the life I’d been born into. Now it was all gone because I’d been so fucking eager to stick my tongue in Sofia Russo’s mouth, I didn’t think about the consequences. Or rather, I did, but ignored them, over and over again, because I was so fucking enchanted with the woman I couldn’t think straight in her presence.

I wracked my brain. Who might know how to get ahold of Dante? The Italians, certainly, but I didn’t want to call the Russos and tip my hand about Sofia. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed.

“Declan Murphy.”

“Declan, thanks for taking my call. This is Nick Lombardi. I need a favor.”

The hotel roomdoor was nondescript compared to the evil that lurked inside. When Dante Oscuro opened the door, he scoffed but didn’t invite me in. He wore slacks and a button-down shirt, the top button revealing his tattooed chest, and his sleeves rolled up to show corded forearms.

“Expecting someone different?” I asked.

Oscuro shrugged, menace radiating off of him. “What can I do for you, Lombardi?”

He thought he was scary, but I faced angry mafia mothers all day—generations of women furious I wouldn’t prescribe their kids extra ADHD meds so their parents could steal them. Or they raised hell because I didn’t agree with their internet diagnosis of their child. Or they were just assholes having a bad day and taking it out on “the help.”

“Don’t threaten my clinic again.”

Oscuro frowned, tilting his head to the side. “I didn’t threaten your clinic.”

Liar.“You want me to believe it’s a coincidence that someone called in a bomb threat that will send my clients fleeing to other clinics the day after you force Sofia to invite me to join your twisted games?”

He grunted and shoved off the doorframe, gesturing for me to come in. I kept my eyes on his shoulders, refusing to admire the way his shirt fitted across his back, or the way his pants molded to his ass and thighs.

Down, boy.

“Sofia’s daughter’s father is in town and trying to isolate her, so she has no choice but to marry him.”

I dropped onto his couch.

“What?”

“Did you not listen the first time?” Oscuro snapped back, sitting in the armchair. He leaned forward and propped his forearms on his knees. “I’m not the one who called in the threat to your clinic.”

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