Page 17 of Because I Need You
“I’m sorry.” Luke walked over and wrapped his arms around me tightly. The door opened again behind me, but I kept hugging Luke back because I needed this right now. “Your dad was a good man, Isa. I know he hurt you and what he did sucks, but deep down, he was good.”
“Good men don’t have secret families in other cities.” I pulled away, swallowing my emotions down hard. “Good men don’t have two separate families, period.”
“Glad you corrected yourself there, ’cause I was about to say…” Luke smiled. I picked up the towel and smacked him with it. “So now that we’ve confirmed he was involved in organized crime, are you going to be some kind of mafia princess?”
“We haven’t confirmed anything.” I laughed, despite myself. “And this isn’t the freaking Sopranos.”
“I mean, it sounds like it might be.”
“Shut up.” I laughed, going back to wiping glasses. When I looked up at Mike’s table, my laughter died. Giovanni was sitting next to him, his eyes directly on me. My heart hammered. “God, can he not leave me the hell alone for a minute?”
“Who?”
“That’s the guy I’m supposedly married to,” I said to Luke as Noah was coming back. They both turned to look. Good thing I didn’t care if they weren’t sneaky, because they would have totally blown my cover.
“Giovanni Masseria?” Noah asked.
“You’re fucking joking,” Luke said.
My jaw dropped as I turned around fully, letting my back hit the bar as I looked at the two of them. “You know him?”
“We don’t know him. We know of him,” Noah said.
“Everyone knows of him, Isa.”
“Not me.” My brows rose. “How would I? He’s from Chicago.”
“Isabel.” Luke cocked his head. “Masseria’s Italian. You know, where they make the best lasagna.”
“Oh.” I frowned. I’d never put two-and-two together. It wasn’t like I went looking up who owned what restaurant. Besides, I’d never had the lasagna there. “But that’s an actual restaurant.”
“That his family owns.”
“He owns nightclubs,” I said.
“You’re married to him, of all people?” Noah blinked, shaking his head slowly. “I can’t wrap my head around that.”
“Me either.” Luke’s eyes narrowed above my head, and then at me. “Define married.”
“I already told you the story. I’m not going to say it again,” I whisper-shouted. “I wouldn’t have told you if I knew he was going to show up here. How the hell did he know about this place? And why’s he sitting with Mike?”
“He’s been here a couple of times before.” Noah shrugs. “He always comes with Mike. Sometimes he used to come with another guy, but I haven’t seen him in a while.”
“He was killed,” Luke said, “Remember?”
“Oh shit. That’s right.” Noah nodded. “Nice guy, too.”
“Yeah.”
I slapped my forehead onto my hand. Apparently, I’d been the only person on the planet who didn’t know who these people were. It probably didn’t help that I didn’t watch the news or read it, for that matter. Or, that I kept my head down and didn’t ask many questions. I’d learned that questions often led to disappointment, though, now that it felt like I’d been kept in the dark about so many things, I wished I’d asked a lot more questions. I knew of Silvio Costello, of course. He was huge in organized crime. I’d heard of Anthony Costello as well. So, basically, the Costello’s. They practically ran these streets. At least, they used to when we were teenagers. I only knew that because one of our neighbors had gone to jail because of them, or, for them. Noah and Luke both left the bar to take drinks to people. I turned back around, ready to keep wiping glasses, and was met with Giovanni’s chest on the other side of the counter. I froze, looking up at his face slowly.
“What are you doing here?”
“This is one of the few places I can always find Havana Club at.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I’ll have that, on the rocks.”
I tapped my finger on the counter and watched him for a beat. He continued to stare at me, into me. It was unnerving, the way he did that. My pulse pounded in my neck. I took that as a sign to pour his drink and move on.
“Here.” I set it in front of him, then looked over his shoulder. “How do you know Mike?”
“He’s a good friend of mine.”
“Really?” I arched an eyebrow. “I don’t see it.”
“Why?” he looked genuinely confused.
“Because he’s nice and you’re not.”
“Very interesting assumption on your part.” He didn’t smile, didn’t laugh, but I saw the amusement dancing in his eyes.
“About you being mean?”
“About him being nice.” He lifted his glass, winked at me, and turned around, walking back to his seat.
He winked at me. And my heart skipped two beats. What the hell?
7
GIO
“Any chance he was hiding some of the cargo in the vault?” I asked Mike, who was sitting across from me.
