Chapter 22
Emily
When we left La Riviera, we headed to Lucia and Romeo’s place to pick up Peach, and that’s where we ended up staying.
Spending time with mobsters is starting to feel like a habit, and while the Cosa Nostra might be more ruthless and dangerous than the Steel Reapers, in moments like this, they’re somehow more refined and civilised.
Right now, I’m sitting at the dining table having dinner with Lucia, Romeo, Dominic, Dante, and Arabella, Dante’s wife. The spread in front of me is no less impressive than the one we got last time. It makes the basic meals I serve Dominic feel lame.
He devours everything I put in front of him and compliments me on everything I make, but witnessing how lavish his mob family eat has me feeling like I’m dropping the ball … like I’m not doing enough.
Caterina—Dante and Arabella’s daughter—is sitting at a tiny table in front of the TV with Peach, the two of them watching a kids’ movie as they eat. It’s the first time I’ve seen Peach eating without being on her uncle’s lap.
I use my fork to push the food around on my plate. I’ve barely eaten all day, because I’m still shaken by what happened earlier. Mick’s fists were bad enough, but the glint of that knife being waved around in front of my face was something else entirely.
I once heard Mick joking about how Razor kills people for fun, like it’s a sport, and those words were the first thing that flashed through my mind the moment he pulled out that knife.
A chill runs up my spine at the memory.
“I don’t want you at La Riviera while there’s trouble about,” someone says, and my head snaps up. My gaze slowly moves around the table, only stopping when I find Dante staring straight at me.
“Were you just talking to me?” I ask.
“Yeah. You’re going to need to take some time off. I can’t have you working at the restaurant with the Reapers hanging around.”
My stomach drops. “You’re firing me?”
“No,” he says. “I’m just giving you some time off. It seems like the sensible thing to do. Those fuckers can’t come into my restaurant looking for you if you’re not there.”
“Those fuckers won’t be able to do anything when I get my hands on them,” Dominic barks from beside me.
My eyes snap to him before moving back to Dante. I’m going to pretend I never heard that.
“But … I-I need the money.” My words come out like a plea, and for a moment, I feel pathetic. These people live a life of luxury, so they probably don’t know what it feels like to struggle.
Lucia reaches out and places her hand on top of mine, but her gaze remains locked on her brother-in-law. “Don’t worry, Em,” she says, still not making eye contact with me. “He’s going to give you time off with pay.”
My eyes flicker from her back to Dante, and when he cocks a brow at Lucia, I know that was never his intention.
They hold each other’s stare for a beat before Dante casually lifts one shoulder. “With pay,” he eventually replies, twirling some pasta onto his fork before bringing it to his mouth.
Lucia gives me a cheeky wink and goes back to eating, but I can’t accept that. I’m not a charity case. I already feel like I’m freeloading off Dominic; I won’t do that with La Riviera as well.
I place my fork down. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t accept it. I’ll look for another job.”
This time, everybody’s head swings in my direction, and Dante’s eyebrows pinch together. It’s probably not a wise idea to go against the Don of the Mafia, but I refuse to get paid for work I didn’t do.
Dante leans back slightly, studying me with that sharp, unreadable look. For a moment, the air between us feels heavy, like the quiet before a storm. “Suit yourself,” he says, his voice calm but firm.
Lucia audibly gasps. “You can’t let her quit.”
“I can’t make her stay either,” he counters, his eyes flicking to mine for a fraction of a second before returning to his plate.
The table falls silent, and I feel the weight of everyone’s attention on me. My heart thumps in my chest, but I force myself to hold their gaze. I’m not used to standing up for myself like this, not in front of people like them, yet a strange sense of stubborn pride settles over me.
“I never claimed I didn’t want to work there,” I say, raising my chin slightly. “But I refuse to take money I haven’t earned.”
“Good for you,” I hear Arabella chime in.
“Yeah,” Lucia adds. “We should open a restaurant on the same street, Bell-Bell, and have Em come and work for us. We could give La Riviera a run for its money.”
“Oh, for fudge’s sake,” Dante growls, dropping his fork down onto his plate and scrubbing his hand down his face.
Did he just say fudge instead of fuck?
I hear Dominic snicker beside me.
“Nobody is opening anything, and Emily is not quitting La Riviera,” he grumbles.
“You should so quit, Em,” Lucia encourages, and I get the feeling she likes to push her brother-in-law’s buttons.
“Dom’s looking for a babysitter to watch Peach while he’s working.
You should consider taking that job. You don’t have far to travel, and you can work in your pyjamas if you want. Sounds like a win-win to me.”
My eyes move to Dominic. “You’re looking for someone to watch Peach?”
When Dominic’s jaw ticks but doesn’t answer, Lucia does it for him.
“He has been for a while, but he’s yet to find anyone who lives up to his standards. The pay is good, he just has trust issues.”
I roll my lips to hide my smile. I swear, Lucia doesn’t possess a filter, but I love her for that.
“I’ll gladly watch her for free,” I tell him. “I adore that little girl, and you’ve done so much for me; it’s the least I can do.”
“Let me get this straight,” Dante says. “You won’t take money for work you haven’t done, but you’ll do a paying job for free?”
I squirm a little in my seat, but force my eyes back to lock on Dante. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He blinks once, then shakes his head as he lets out a low chuckle.
“You’re stubborn, just like the other women at this table.
I guess I can respect that, even if it’s infuriating.
” His attention shifts to Dominic before he flicks his chin towards me and adds, “Good luck with that one, you’re going to need it. ”
Dominic swallows a laugh as his fingers briefly wrap around my knee, giving it a slight squeeze. “I can handle it.”
And just like that, the tension around the table melts away. Everyone returns to eating their dinner, as if nothing happened.
Meanwhile, I’m left wondering if I still have a job at the restaurant or if I somehow just agreed to start working for Dominic instead.
I open my bedroom door, peek into the hallway, step out, and quietly ease the door shut behind me. I’m still getting used to living here. I’m not uncomfortable; it just feels strange.
It was late when we got back from Lucia and Romeo’s place last night, so while Dominic got Lil’ Peach bathed and ready for bed, I slipped into my room and didn’t come back out.
A coward’s move, maybe, but I needed space. Some time to think and process.
I’m still shaken over Mick’s bikie mates showing up at work and threatening me. I hate that my personal life has spilled into my job.
I keep wondering where he is. If he’s fled or missing, no wonder he hasn’t been blowing up my phone. I was sure that once he discovered me gone, he’d lose his shit.
So where is he?
Is he missing?
Did he run?
Has something worse happened?
And what did Razor mean when he said Mick had something of theirs and they wanted it back?
What could he possibly have that he’d keep from them?
Did he steal from them too?
Did that skank Amber climb onto the back of his bike so they could ride off into the sunset together?
Good luck to her if she did. She can have him.
My head is all over the place, and to top it all off I barely slept last night. I kept replaying everything that had happened, circling the same thoughts, until I was exhausted and none of it made any sense. My whole life feels like a cruel, giant mess.
How in the hell did I get here?
I haven’t even told my mum that I moved out of Mick’s house and in with a mobster because that will open the door to questions I’m not ready for. Would she ask me to come home?
I know I said going back to Queensland was an option, but do I actually want that?
My bare feet pad down the hallway. I hear the television in the main room, so I follow the sound. One of Lil’ Peach’s cartoons is playing, which means she must be in there watching it.
I’m dressed in straight-leg lounge pants and a plain fitted tee, still casual but at least somewhat put together, because I don’t feel comfortable wandering around in my sleepwear.
I probably won’t be leaving the house today since I’ve been taken off the roster at La Riviera for the foreseeable future. I called Massimo this morning, and he confirmed it.
I’m still not sure whether I should be pissed or relieved about that. Maybe I’m a mixture of both.
I pause when I reach the archway, the sight in front of me making my breath catch in my throat.
What I expected to see was Peach curled up on her little pink recliner, completely absorbed in the TV.
I definitely wasn’t expecting to find her perched on her uncle’s bare back in her cute pink pyjamas, sipping milk from her sippy cup while he powers out an impressive string of push-ups right there in the middle of the living room.
Every now and then, his hands lift off the floor, and he claps them together. Each time he does this, a sweet little giggle spills from Peach’s mouth. She’s completely delighted, and watching her laugh like that makes the whole scene feel impossibly warm and ridiculous all at once.