She sucked in a breath then nodded once. “All right,” she said. “I’ll help. But I’m not doing it for you.”
“I didn’t think you were,” I said, smiling softly, and kissed her cheek. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. “It’s good to have you back, you know that?”
“I bet it is,” she whispered, and turned her back on me then walked over to the window. I left her alone and gathered up the sticks, shoving them back into the bag.
“We’ll take these to the Don,” I said. “From there, we’ll figure out where to go.” I hesitated and watched her carefully. “You’re with me, right?”
“I’m with you,” she said.
“No more running.”
“No more,” she echoed with a sigh. She stared up at the ceiling, then forced a rough smile. “It’s weird, you know? I feel like I haven’t settled down in two years, then suddenly you come storming back into my life, and now it’s like I’m back where I should’ve been. Except it doesn’t feel right.”
“Why doesn’t it feel right?” I asked.
“We’ve changed,” she said. “Anyway, I don’t want to talk about this. I guess I should put on something nice if we’re going to see the Don, right?”
I wanted to push her on what she meant, but decided to let it go. The harder I tried to force her to fit into the mold I wanted for her, the faster she’d fight back and get away from me again. I had to be careful, or else I’d lose her all over.
“You’re fine in whatever you want,” I said, but she already walked past me, back to my bedroom. “You’re going to have to sleep on the couch eventually,” I called after her, but she only laughed.
I sighed and sat down to wait, drumming my fingers on the table.
7
Irene
Don Valentino’s mansion sat outside of the city in a quiet little suburb right on the edge of Philadelphia County. It was a twenty-minute drive from City Hall, but far enough away that it felt like a totally different world.
The kind of world that I’d never seen before in my life.
The driveway was long and gravel, and stretched back into a long shady forest. The grass was cut and tended, and the flowers and shrubs were well maintained. The house appeared at the top of a slight rise in all its glory, and my jaw dropped like a little girl seeing magic for the first time.
Cam grinned at me. “It’s something, right?”
“Holy crap,” I said. “I’ve only ever seen pictures of houses like that.”
It was massive. Big columns, peaked roof, lots and lots of windows. The siding looked immaculate and the porch stretched along the front and disappeared around the back. Two floors, plus a small third, probably attic space. The front door was massive and wooden, like a medieval church.
Cam parked and killed the engine. “Don Valentino’s pretty informal, but try to be respectful anyway,” he said, then gave me a look. “And don’t steal anything.”
I glared at him. “Why the hell would I do that?”
“Because you’ve spent the last two years boosting random shit from rich guys like the Don and it’s probably instinct at this point, but don’t be dumb, all right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine, no stealing.” Which I hadn’t planned on doing, although he did have a point. If I came across something small and expensive-looking, I might’ve just grabbed it without thinking.
He led the way up the stairs and knocked at the door. It opened a minute later, and an older woman with short gray hair, a green button-down top, a pair of khaki slacks, and a pristine white apron beamed out at us. She looked like a cross between Paula Deen and Martha Stewart, but without all the controversies.
“Well, hello, Cam,” the woman said.
“Hi, Bea,” Cam said. “This is Irene.”
“Good to meet you,” Bea said and shook my hand. “I’m the Don’s housekeeper, in case Cam here didn’t tell you. The boys don’t always think about that.”
Cam laughed and rubbed his neck. “I did forget to mention you,” he admitted.
“Of course you did, sweetie,” Bea said. “I won’t take it personally though. Anyway, come on in, he’s waiting in the office.”
I followed Cam, who followed Bea into the big, spacious entry hallway with a chandelier that was worth more than I’d ever seen in my life. She took us down a side hall, covered with plush carpets with oil paintings on the wall and real wood paneling. It was a rich person’s paradise, and designed to evoke feelings of power and wealth, and it was doing a really, really good job, especially considering I was used to rat-infested abandoned Philly row homes that were mostly made of mold.
Bea showed us into a large office with a huge wooden desk in the center. It was flanked by bookcases packed with leather volumes, most of them really old looking, and probably only there to look fancy. The Don sat behind the desk with a glass of something brown in one hand and a slowly smoking cigar in the other.