Chapter 22
DANTE
I’m running out of time.
I thought I would have longer, but my boss's escape from prison means that I'll have to double down on my efforts. I told myself I was doing everything I could, but clearly, that's not enough.
"Are you okay?" Grace's soft voice pulls me out of my racing thoughts. I want to remain in her sweetness, but everything is about to turn upside down now.
I don’t know what to say to her, so I turn to Enzo. "He won't try to leave America just yet. This gives us about two weeks."
Enzo is still in shock.
"How did he even pull it off?" he whispers.
"He must have made friends with the right people," I say. "He's good at that."
"What was he in prison for?" Grace asks.
"That doesn't concern you," Enzo snaps.
"Watch your tone when you speak to my woman," I growl at him.
Grace moves closer toward me. "I'm sorry."
"You have nothing to apologize for, little bird," I say, raising my eyebrows at Enzo.
"Are you serious right now?” he asks.
“I’ll be in my bedroom,” Grace says softly.
I stare Enzo down. He rolls his eyes and mutters a half-hearted apology to Grace. Her cheeks turn red before she walks to her bedroom and closes the door behind her.
"What the fuck, man?" Enzo says. "You can't be serious. You met that girl like a week ago.”
"You misdirected your anger at her," I say. "Make sure it doesn't happen again."
He shakes his head in disbelief, but otherwise keeps his opinions to himself.
The TV catches our attention again. We watch the news until the reporter moves on to a different topic.
I take a deep breath. The air still smells like cinnamon and happiness. It's funny how life can change so fast.
"I can't believe this is actually happening," Enzo says. "He must have been planning it for months, if not years."
"I always knew it was a possibility, but I really thought we would have more time.” I sigh.
In my Don's absence, I was given autonomy. Even though he was still making all the big decisions and telling me what to do, I was still able to do things that were independent of what he wanted. I had time to focus on what was important to me.
The image of my Don is burned into the back of my mind.
The locals call him Barbablù, Italian for “Bluebeard.” For as long as I've known him, he had an inky-black beard that appeared dark blue in certain lighting.
He had also been married six times. All six of his wives had disappeared.
Nobody knows what happened to them, but everyone suspects that he had something to do with their disappearance.
And so they started calling him Bluebeard, after the fictional character who also had skeletons in his closet.
“Are you certain we have time?” Enzo asks.
“I can’t say for sure, but he’ll likely keep a low profile for a while,” I say. “Crossing international waters is risky.”
He nods and turns off the TV.
I feel like I have the weight of the entire world on my shoulders. It’s a pressure I’m not sure I can handle, but I need to do my best.
“We have to pause all of our investigations,” Enzo says.
“Or we could speed them up,” I say.
“There’s not enough time, Dante,” he says.
“There is,” I say. “We just need to do things differently.”
“What do you have in mind?” Enzo asks.
Everything is chaotic right now, but the one thing I’m certain about is that we can’t keep doing things the old way. And there’s only one way to speed up the process.
“We have to ask for help,” I say. “We need allies.”
He raises his eyebrows.
"Paris fashion week," I say.
Enzo runs a hand down his face. "Please elaborate.”
“I know someone who can help,” I say. The plan spins together in my head, all of the pieces slowly falling into place. “And they’ll be there.”
"Just when I thought this week couldn't get any weirder," he mumbles. "And what do you plan on doing with Grace while we’re in Paris?”
"She's coming with us," I say.
"Of course she is."
“Pack your bags. We'll leave in an hour.”
“Dante, you know I usually trust your judgment, but I think bringing that girl along is a horrible idea."
"She knows," I say.
"I beg your pardon?"
"I told her everything. About my family, the deal with the Don, the two names."
"What were you even thinking?" Enzo is gaping at me now. "She knows about Ida?"
"I didn't tell her about Ida," I say. "But she knows pretty much everything else."
"And what about me?" he asks. "Does she know all of my secrets, too?"
“Of course not."
"Right, because that's where you draw the line."
"Is there a problem?" I ask calmly.
"I can't deal with you right now," he says, grabbing the remaining piece of French toast from his plate and storming out.
"Meet me at the front door once you're done packing."
He gives me the middle finger without turning around. I understand why he's pissed. But I know he'll come around. He always does.
I head toward Grace's bedroom and knock on the door before entering.
I find her sitting by the window.
She stands when she sees me.
“Are things okay between you and Enzo?” she asks.
"He's just being a baby," I say. “He’ll get over it.”
“I didn’t mean to come between the two of you,” she says.
“It wasn’t about you,” I say. “He just doesn’t like change. And everything has changed now that Don Savastano has escaped from prison. Especially for Enzo.”
“They don’t get along?” she asks.
“Something like that,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I have to travel for work. I want you to come with me.”
"Where are we going?" she asks.
"Paris," I say. “We can spend a whole day eating nothing but chocolate croissants with extra butter on top."
She grins at me.
And just like that, all the heaviness in my bones dissipates. I feel as light as a feather because this girl smiled at me.
Maybe Enzo had a point.
I might be in trouble.
Big trouble.