Page 38 of Oblivion
“Cookies!” I exclaimed and ran straight for them, ignoring both Tristan and Cillian and the passports lying on top of the table in the middle of the kitchen. “Oh my God.” I grabbed the first one, stuffing my mouth immediately. “And they’re with chocolate,” I mumbled, eating the first one in just a couple of bites.
“Seriously?” Cillian asked, dragging his hand over his face. “Did you have to put those there?” he asked Tristan.
“Hey, it’s her new house. She deserves to have some cookies.”
“Yeah, but—”
“If you’re nice, I might even share them with you,” I said, hugging the bowl of cookies to my chest.
“No offense, Birdy, but you look like you might attack us if we tried to take even one,” Tristan said while Cillian laughed.
“I’m still hungry, okay?” I scowled, lowering down the bowl on top of the counter. “But fine,” I huffed. “I guess the cookies can wait.”
I took two steps toward the table in the middle where both of them took a seat and took the first passport that was laid in front of Tristan, opening the first page with all of my information on it.
“Emilia De Luca,” I said, frowning. “Really? Do I look Italian to you?” I asked both of them, holding the passport that had my picture but a different name.
“I mean, your temper—” Tristan started.
“And your love for food,” Cillian continued. “You do love pasta.” He shrugged.
“Yes, but Italian?”
“This will help us with the Romanos. Besides, you can’t exactly be invited to their parties if you’re not Italian. Nico Romano is the one holding the reins right now, and I don’t want him shooting you as soon as he hears your name,” Tristan answered.
“I already know Nico Romano, dum-dum.” I huffed and sat down. “We met three years ago.”
“And you’re only telling me this now.” Cillian scowled at me. “You let me have that entire conversation with you about the Italians and what needed to be done, and you’re just casually dropping this bomb on us now. What did you do to him?”
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Ophelia,” Tristan warned, and I hated sitting here under this much scrutiny.
“I technically didn’t do anything, but he did want to kill me at the time.”
“What. Happened?” Cillian bit out every word separately and got up from the table.
“I smoothed it all out, but he still might want to smack me for stealing his Ferrari that one time.”
“You—” Tristan started and then stopped himself, clearing his throat. “That was you?”
“It’s not such a big deal. He owes me a favor now, and he invited me to his wedding.”
Cillian was pacing from one side of the kitchen to the other, holding his hands on his hips. I could see that he wasn’t a happy camper with the information I shared, but it wasn’t like we had time before to reveal all these things.
“So you’re telling me,” Cillian growled. “That you had a connection with Nico Romano and his family, but you failed to say so before.”
“I thought his father or whoever was still in charge!”
“That’s beside the point, Ophelia!” Cillian roared. “We could’ve avoided a lot of things if you'd only told me. And now you’re saying he invited you to his wedding.”
“Oh, yes.” I nodded. “He’s marrying this non-famigliachick, and it’s been such a big uproar—”
“Ophelia!” Cillian screamed, making me jump in my seat.
“Fine, fine, I’ll stop dicking around. Yes.” I looked at Cillian and then at Tristan. “I know Nico Romano and he owes me a few favors. No, I didn’t know he’s in charge now. And yes, I am going to go to that wedding.”
“You’re not going to that wedding,” Cillian growled. “You’re supposed to be dead, for fuck’s sake!”
