Page 66 of The Obsession
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’vebarely 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.”
