“No, my uncle took care of everything.”
“You have family here, then?”
“No, only an aunt I never see, and my Uncle Besnik. He’s not my uncle but I’ve called him that since I was a child.” She sits at her desk.
Prende looks beautiful in a dark blue dress with a gold sash cinched around her tiny waist. It’s well made but not designer. I’ve dated enough women with expensive taste to know the difference and have the receipts to prove it.
It’s easier to buy them shit than to give a piece of myself, namely my heart.
That’s the part I hate about the business I’m in. You’re only as good as your last accomplishment. It’s not like I can brag about the amount of money I earn for the family from my illegal poker games, or all the cloak and dagger shit I do for them.
We outsource more than we used to. It keeps our hands clean and frees up time to focus on making money. The head of our security, Riccardo, handles most of that. We put more trust in him than we do our consigliere. He’s fucking brilliant and learned his skills while serving with the elite military in Israel. There’s no way I’d ever piss him off.
When we get to her desk and sit down, my leg bumps into something underneath it. When she’s not looking, I sneak a peek at my feet and see a safe on the floor.
“Hmm, well, it’s nice you have him around, like a surrogate father.”
“Yeah,” she says, but her body language says differently.
“You don’t like your uncle? Did he hurt you?”
“Oh, no. Nothing like that. Just things are strange now.” She shrugs and changes the subject. “Juliet dropped by yesterday. She’s so cute and so sweet. Her wedding will be amazing. It’s nice to plan a happy occasion.”
“For sure.” Suddenly thirsty, I open the water and take a gulp.
“Do you eat these every day?” Her dark eyes meet mine over the top of the sandwich, and I’m at a loss for words.
“Do you, or don’t you? It’s quite simple,” her sweet voice asks again while I chew and swallow my food to buy more time to answer.
“Umm, yes, it is simple. No, I don’t eat them every day, my pants would never fit unless I walked twelve kilometers a day.” I chuckle.
“Well, you look like a model.” She blushes, realizing she just admitted she thinks I’m handsome. “I mean, your suits, and shoes, are all so sharp. It must cost you a fortune.”
“Yes, exactly.”
“But you Italian men, you all age so well, never fat, always handsome. Not like most Albanian men, who spend too much time at the bar. Let’s just say I’ve noticed the difference between our cultures.”
“I’m not that old, but I hope you’re right and I age well. Aren’t we about the same age, no?”
“Twenty-four.”
“Twenty-six. See, very close.”
She smiles and I’m tempted to pull her into my arms.
“I can’t finish this. I’ll eat the rest for dinner,” she says and she takes one last bite.
“Bravo, then I know you’ll have eaten well today.”
“Yeah, last night wasn’t pretty.” She rolls her eyes. “We got all the flower orders for the service tomorrow and we’ve been running on fumes ever since.”
“I’m sure it will be worth it. Your work is incredible, I’ve looked up your event pictures online. Between your skills and your father’s popularity in the community, you’ll have a good turn out tomorrow.”
“What do you know about my father?”
I sit back in my chair, surprised and a little annoyed. I wasn’t expecting her to be so direct.
“What do you mean by that?” I set my sandwich down.