20. Ophelia #3
“Because I refuse to keep the truth from you, sweetheart, no matter how painful it may be.” Salvatore glances at me sidelong, netting his hands on the table. “David wonders if Ben is the new leader.”
“What makes him think that?”
“He was a strange boy. David and I barely knew him. None of us really did.”
“Perhaps he liked to distance himself from everything.”
“Perhaps,” ponders Salvatore, swiping a finger over his lip.
“He used to disappear randomly. He was assigned jobs, but would never turn up for them. And if he did decide to show his face, he would always leave the job half finished. Our leader, Renato Vieri, asked us to write down our arch nemesis—someone in the city we wanted to see dead. He would train us, send us on missions. When he thought we were ready, he would send us on our own personal mission.”
“To kill your arch nemesis?”
“Yes,” says Salvatore. “Mine was Richard Campbell, a politician in immigrant affairs who deported my parents back to Italy.” Deep lines appear between Salvatore’s brow as he stares at me. “Ben’s arch nemesis was our leader, Renato Vieri.”
“He killed your leader?”
“No, I don’t think so, but it would make sense for him to lead the Crows now,” says Salvatore. “Our leader saw Ben as weak. This could be Ben’s way of seeking revenge.”
I take a big gulp of prosecco, needing to take the edge off, although I might need something stronger. “My father was in the Crows?”
“It’s a big possibility.”
“The investigative journalist was the one who pointed my mother toward the storage unit,” I say.
Salvatore stares at me intently, listening.
“My mother didn’t want to burn her findings, so she stored them in Queens, out of sight, out of mind.
” I take another gulp of prosecco, twirling the glass in my hands.
“This was never about the Crows. She was investigating my father.” I turn to Salvatore, hoping he can answer my question.
“Why would she investigate someone who abandoned her?”
“Simple,” says Salvatore. “Perhaps he never abandoned you, sweetheart.”
The prosecco turns incredibly bitter on my tongue. I set the glass down, toss the napkin on the table and stand up, chair legs scraping underneath me. I need fresh air and the biggest hug from my mom, but since the latter is impossible, I leave the venue and give Aunt Viv a call instead.
“Ophelia,” says Salvatore, joining me outside.
He grabs my hand, but I shake him off, waiting for Aunt Viv to answer her goddamn phone. Knowing her, she will be in the middle of a spiritual cleanse, surrounded by crystals and burning sage.
“Ophelia,” Salvatore calls again.
I turn around, debate telling him I prefer Phee, but our relationship is already informal enough. Him calling me Phee only makes our dynamic more complicated.
“I’m getting you a taxi.”
“I’m not ringing for a taxi.”
“Then who are you calling?”
“My Aunt, to see what else she knows about my parents.”
“Ring her tomorrow,” says Salvatore, sliding his hand over my shoulder, and this time I don’t shake him off.
I melt into his reassuring touch instead, feeling like a priority.
I shut my eyes, breathing in the stuffy city air.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “Perhaps I should have kept my thoughts to myself.”
“Why? So you can keep your distance?”
Salvatore works his jaw. “I can’t seem to do that around you, sweetheart.”
I stare at his face. He is in pain about something, trying to work through conflicting emotions. “It’s never too late to start over,” I say.
Salvatore keeps watching me, ignoring the comment. “You need to tread with caution, Ophelia. Crows are circling, and I don’t want to attend your funeral.”
“You think my own father would have me killed?”
Salvatore shrugs. The concern written across his face speaks a thousand words. “I’ve seen some upsetting things in my time, sweetheart. I would hope not, but you can never be sure.”
A tear falls from my eye. “My mother wasn’t telling me to stay away from the Crows. She was telling me to stay away from my father.”
“If your father is the new leader,” says Salvatore. “We still don’t know the full truth.” He looks at me, contemplating something. “Let me get you a taxi home.”
“What happened to me staying at Hotel Moretti? Has someone else booked in tonight?”
“No, sweetheart,” says Salvatore. “Hotel Moretti is reserved for only one guest. And that guest is my pretty little assistant… if she would like to stay the night.”
If I fall asleep in Salvatore’s arms, I will fall in love.
“The taxi back to my place sounds good,” I say, popping my phone back into my clutch.
Salvatore makes a quick call, turning back to me afterward. “Make sure you tell the driver your address once you are inside the vehicle. He will get home safe. And when you walk into your apartment, I want you to lock all the windows and doors.”
“I’m not going into lockdown.”
“You are for the time being, until David and I figure out who the new leader is.”
I roll my eyes. As soon as tomorrow rolls around, I’m heading straight to Aunt Viv’s art branch and accusing her of lying to my face. She may think she is protecting me by withholding truth, but all she is doing is pissing me off.