Chapter 49 – Amanda
Imade a fascinating discovery earlier this morning.
When I woke to a soft, purring lump who guarded me while his papa was gone, I laid in bed for a half hour, enjoying the calm.
There was no need to rush away. There was no work demanding my attention or social ladders that needed to be climbed.
I could simply exist. That peace was a balm to my soul.
Nature finally drove me from the warm nest, and when I came back to see the mess we’d made last night, I decided to wash the bedding.
To make it ready for whenever the mobster came home. Plus, there was the dirty sweatshirt crumpled at the bottom of the plastic bin. Determined to try my hand at being domestic, I compiled a few loads to be washed.
Only…I couldn’t find the laundry.
I figured in a loft apartment, there would be a closet somewhere with a washer and dryer. But after searching, I put on one of my new outfits and went to the first floor to scope out the building. I hoped there was an onsite communal laundry, so I didn’t have to go to a laundromat.
That was where I met Bill and some other rough-looking men. The henchman only laughed when I asked where the building’s laundry facilities were.
Not only did I discover that the other apartments on the top level were Vincenzo’s—one of them dedicated to laundry and other storage needs—but this whole building was his. Eight floors of prime real estate that sat empty, a fortress in the city that he kept to himself.
Sure, he had a dozen picked men who stayed on site, especially now that I was in the picture. But this was Vincenzo’s castle. A place of solitude, where he could roam about, away from the prying eyes of the famiglia and the rest of Boston.
It was a great location in the city, and I tried and failed to calculate how much something like this cost. The poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks had carved out a place for himself.
Accompanied by three of the goons, I wandered outside. When they offered to drive me, I said I preferred to walk the neighborhood. There was no protest, no instructions about my safety. I read their agreement to mean that this was Vincenzo’s turf, and I was safe here.
I ducked into a café, and using a bit of cash, since I didn’t trust the black card that’d been tucked into my wallet, I ordered a chai latte.
As I waited, a group of girls entered. While all six of them had the same brown hair, olive complexion, and sharp, elegant features, their eyes set them apart.
One of the girls was very familiar, but it wasn’t until she laughed that I realized she was the same woman from Mama Ana’s Bar I can help you.”
She studied me. “You really believe that don’t you.”
“I do.”
“It must be nice to have grown up with options.” She tipped her chin up. “Enjoy that.”
Her phone rang, and she didn’t pay attention to my response.
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” she said before hanging up. Ignoring me, she called out to her sisters. “Gia? Carmela? I have to go to work.”
The flock descended on her, letting out high-pitched, squeaky protests.
But Gabriella shook her head. “They need me at the restaurant.”