“Cora’s been an associate for years. A trusted associate.” I narrow my eyes at him, reading between the lines.
“She was working the Lovell Estate for you?”
He nods once.
“She’s loyal.” She’s blood, is what he means.
“How?”
His refusal is subtle. If my eyes weren’t laser-focused on him then I might miss the slight shake of his head.
“Not now. Just get me the answers I need. One of them is a snake. I need to know which.”
“Probably not the one who has no fucking idea what’s going on. Do you know that she thinks her mum is dead?”
“Probably for the best. She will be if I discover she’s been lying to me.”
My lips part to respond, but he beats me to it.
“You’ve got a job to do,” he states, stalking across the room and running his hand down my mother’s back where she talks to the other wives.
My phone vibrates in my hand and excitement shoots through my veins that she’s finally responded.
Although it isn’t her name that flashes up when I lift the screen, the one that stares back at me is almost as good. Almost.
I open the email and scroll down the text until I find the results I wanted.
“Bingo,” I breathe, staring down at the evidence I needed. Although, I must admit that I wasn’t expecting to see that surname connected to Emmie.
Dad might not have been willing to answer my question about Emmie being Cirillo Family by blood, but we’ve got enough connections for me to find that answer for myself.
Maybe that was his plan. He wanted to see how resourceful I could be. Clearly, he really doesn’t think much of my skills.
All I needed was a little DNA from Emmie. Easy.
I’m about to pull our chat back up again to send her another reminder when a shadow falls over me.
“Evan is glaring at you from the blackjack table,” Seb says, glancing between me and the phone in my hand.
“Evan can fuck off,” I mutter, shooting him a sneer and ensuring he can lip-read every one of my words.
I shouldn’t taunt him. But after that brief conversation with Dad, I’m more than ready to get the fuck out of here and discover whether Emmie has made the right decision about how our night is going to go.
“Who’s got your panties in a twist?” Seb grunts, turning so his back is to the wall, giving him a view of the room before us.
“My panties?” I ask with a snort. “You’ve been spending too much time with your girl.”
“Exactly as it should be. How’s it going with yours?”
I rear back.
“Oh, don’t look so fucking shocked. You’re so gone for her it’s not even funny.”
“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.”
He barks out a laugh. “You’re so full of shit the entire room can smell it, Cirillo. Where’d you go Christmas night, huh?”
I swallow.