Page 8 of The Fixer

This arrangement with Rosa—it isn’t a real marriage. It‘s a farce.

But it’ll save her brother’s life.

“I’ll do it.”

5

ROSA

The next hour is excruciating. Hugh alternates between pacing around the room and sitting on the couch, staring into space. He doesn‘t stop shaking. At one point, my mother tiptoes into the room with a mug of ph?. He barely reacts.

“Has he told you what’s going on?” she whispers to me.

“No.” My mother’s face is pinched and frightened, and as sorry as I feel for Hugh right now, I also want to slap him. This is her fiftieth birthday. All she wanted to do was go out for a lobster dinner, but I seriously doubt we’re going to make our dinner reservation. “Don’t worry,m?.It’s going to be okay.” I keep my fingers crossed as I reassureher. My mind is fuzzy with panic. God, I hope Valentina has a plan because I sure as hell don’t.

“Worrying is a mother’s prerogative,” she responds. “I’ll make something for dinner.”

“Good idea.” Cooking will distract her. “Do you want help?”

“You stay here,” she says, giving Hugh another concerned glance. “Your father will help me.”

She must be really worried if she’s willing to risk unleashing my father in the kitchen.

I cross the room to the couch once she’s gone. “Drink the ph? while it’s still hot.”

Hugh nods. His hands close around the mug, but he makes no move to lift it to his mouth. “Talk to me,” I urge. “What happened?”

He doesn’t reply.

“Does the Mafia already know about the missing money?” I try again. “Is that why they blew up your car?”

He hesitates. “No,” he says. “That was something else.”

“Something else? What is that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head. “Forget about the car,” he says. “It doesn’t mean anything.” He takes a sip of the hot broth. “Rocco Santini doesn’t know about themoney. Not yet.” He swallows. “I don’t have a lot of time.” He takes another big gulp of the broth, and awareness finally returns to his eyes. “You shouldn’t be here. Not you, not the parents. Call a taxi, get to the airport. Take them back to Venice.”

Right now, Hugh’s judgment is suspect. “Can we trust the taxi drivers here?”

He starts to reply and then stops. “No,” he says, defeated. “We can’t. Even if they don’t work directly for Spina Sacra, they won’t oppose them. If Santini’s put out the word. . .” His voice trails away.

Tears well in his eyes, and he averts his face. I settle next to him and put my arm around his shoulders. “I called Valentina. She told me to stay put. She and Dante will be here soon. They’ll know what to do.” He’s still shaking; the ph? has done nothing to warm him. “It’s going to be okay,” I say, offering the same empty reassurance I gave my mom.

“No,” he says. I’ve never heard him sound so lost. Sobroken. “No, it’s not.”

Ninety minutes later,there’s a knock at the door. My parents, who are in the kitchen, don’t hear it. Hugh and I do, and we freeze.

Valentina said two hours. Is this her, half an hour ahead of schedule, or is this the Mafia come to shoot Hugh down in cold blood?

Valentina

Answer the door.

Oh, thank heavens. Relief floods through me, making me weak-kneed. I exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding, jump to my feet, and hurry to the front door. “Thanks for coming so quickly, Val?—”

Then I look up, and the words get stuck on my tongue. Because it’s not Valentina standing there.

It’s Leo.

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