Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Anya

T he first thought that hits me when Claire wakes me up at five is that Saverio didn’t come to bed. I wish he’d stop pushing us away. It’s not going to help in dealing with what happened or in moving on.

When Claire is fed, bathed, and dressed, I leave her on a play mat beneath an arch of colorful toys in our room while I rush through my morning routine with the bathroom door open so that I have her in my sight. I dress hurriedly, opting for comfortable slacks, a blouse, and a blazer. Claire is happy to kick her little legs and to stare at the objects dangling within her reach, so I take a little extra time to apply make-up and curl my hair. I want to look pretty for Saverio.

Livy is in the kitchen when I go downstairs with Claire for breakfast. I do a double take. My fairy godmother wears a black T-shirt with a get down and dirty slogan, a denim skirt, and fishnet stockings with ankle boots. She tied her silver hair in a sleek, high ponytail, and her make-up is darker than usual. Big silver hoops hang from her ears.

I put Claire in her baby carrier and go to the fridge. “What’s with the babe look?”

“Mornin,’” she chirps, removing a tray of delicious-smelling chocolate chip cookies from the oven.

Grinning, I take out the spirulina and coconut water mixture that Livy insists is good for my breastmilk production. “Going somewhere?”

She puts the baking tray on the stovetop. “With you to the office actually.”

I grab a cookie and bite into it. Ouch. Still hot.

“You are?” I ask around the cookie in my mouth.

Yum.

Saverio’s voice reaches us from down the hallway. “Goddammit.” A thud follows that sounds like something hitting the wall. “Motherfucking fuck.”

It’s loud, even from behind the closed door of his study.

Livy sighs. “Physiotherapy.”

Concern tightens my chest. “Has it been like this the whole time?”

“Since he started at seven.” She gives me a meaningful look. “I think he can do with a little space.”

Understanding dawns. “Ah.” Hence coming with me to After Dark.

I often take Claire with me. It’s easier for the logistics of breastfeeding. She sleeps in the baby carrier that attaches to her stroller while I work. Dante’s had the privilege of pushing her up and down the hallway when I battle to get her to settle, but she’s mostly an easy baby who only cries when she’s hungry, tired, or when her diaper is wet.

We walk into the club just after eight with me carrying Claire and Livy charged with my laptop and the diaper bag.

Dante, who sits at the bar counter with a cup of coffee in front of him, gets to his feet.

He doesn’t quite succeed in hiding his smile when he looks at Livy. “Wow, Liv. Are you going on a date?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Unceremoniously shoving my bags into his arms, she asks, “Where do you want me?”

“Huh?” Dante gives her a panty-dropping smile. “Did I miss the invite? You should’ve told me I was your plus-one. I would’ve worn my special aftershave.”

She pokes him on the shoulder. “I’m here to work, wiseass, not to entertain you with my delightful company.”

He sneaks a mischievous wink my way before saying, “We’re short on bar staff.”

Surprising both Dante and me, she goes behind the bar counter and grabs a dishcloth from the stash that she eloquently drapes over her shoulder. “Count me in. I’ve always wanted to serve cocktails with names that sound like sex to gorgeous men and beautiful women.”

Dante and I share a look.

“I just need someone to point me toward the recipes for the mixes,” she says with her hands propped on her hips.

“I’ll get the barman to show you,” Dante says. “We’re catering for a business lunch meeting today.”

“Can’t wait,” she says, flashing him a glossy, red smile. “What if there’s trouble?”

Dante frowns. “Trouble?”

I enjoy the show too much to help Dante out of his misery. Instead, I watch from the sidelines, not feeling one bit sorry for dumping him in hot oil and leaving him there to fry to a crisp.

“You know,” Livy says. “Bar brawls and that kind of trouble.”

Dante’s lips quirk. “If anyone gives you shit, Liv, don’t hesitate to call a bouncer.”

She perks up at that. “Those guys with the muscles dressed in the tight black shirts and crotch-hugging jeans?” Rolling her eyes toward the ceiling, she sighs. “God, I hope there’s a fight.”

Chuckling at that, I leave her to figure out how to run the bar and mix high-end drinks while I install myself in the office.

I park the stroller next to my desk and get to work.

“She’s something else,” Dante says when he walks in some time later. “I was just fooling with her about working behind the bar. Didn’t think for one minute she’d do it.”

“Never underestimate Livy,” I say with a smile, not looking up from my laptop.

“I’m beginning to understand why.”

I pause to look at him. “Livy is family, so everyone better be nice to her.”

“She doesn’t need you to put the fear of God into the employees to give her preferential treatment. Liv earns that all by herself.”

“She’s one in a million,” I sing-song, appreciation warming me all over again. “She kind of stood in for the mother I never had.”

“Yeah.” Dante stops next to the stroller to peer inside. “I got that from the bits and pieces you told me.” He brushes a finger over a soundly sleeping Claire’s brow. “Talking of which. Any news about your mother?”

“No.” I chew my lip. “She all but vanished.”

He looks up. “No news is good news.”

“I hope so.”

“She’ll contact you if she’s in trouble.”

Up to now, that’s how it worked between us. She’d screw up, and I’d clean up her mess. The uncharacteristically long silence leaves me edgy.

“What does her psychologist say?” he asks.

“That Mary is one of those cases who never made progress. I met with her therapist once a month, and every month he’d tell me the same thing.”

His gaze is sympathetic. “That there’s no hope?”

“That she won’t change unless she wants to. I can’t force her to do it.”

“Give it time. You did everything you could.”

“Any word from the whisky distillery?” I ask to change the subject.

Dante’s face drops. “They didn’t bite.”

“Why not?”

“They said they got a better offer.” His features harden. “I have a feeling that offer involved a gun being pushed against the CEO’s head.”

“Shit.” I drum my fingers on the desktop. “We needed that deal.”

He turns serious. “You have to tell Sav about the loan.”

My tone is harsh. “No.” Softening my voice, I continue. “He’s got enough to worry about as it is.”

“What the hell are you going to do when it’s time to pay?”

My throat closes up at the prospect.

“That loan shark is a dangerous son of a bitch,” Dante says. “If you don’t give him the money, he’ll come after you.”

“I’ll make a plan. I’ll find a loophole in the books.”

“That’s not going to solve our cashflow problem.” He leans his palms on the desk. “You’re busting your ass to save this place, and I’ve gone with it because I agree with you. Sav isn’t in the best state of mind to deal with this shit right now. But you can’t do it all on your own. You’ve got to let him in. I’m not going to stand by and let someone break your arms and put bullets in your knees.”

A shiver runs through me. “We’ll be all right,” I say with more conviction than I feel. “We just need a few good nights.”

Sighing, he straightens. “I’ll see what I can do about finding another supplier.”

“It’s not as much the supply as the kickbacks we need,” I point out.

“Don’t I know that.” He gives me a dark look. “One more week, and then I tell Sav myself.”

“Don’t worry.” I put on a bright smile. “I’ll talk to him.”

He studies me from under his lashes. “Promise?”

I cross my fingers under the desk. “Promise.”

“Okay,” he says, not sounding convinced.

“How’s the informant situation going?”

“Not fast enough.” He grabs an apple from the corner of my desk and throws it in the air before catching it. “We need more intel.” He continues with loathing. “Raphael is up to something.”

My back goes rigid at the mention of that name. “Up to what exactly?”

“That’s what we need to find out.”

He’s keeping something from me. “Tell me, Dante. I have a right to know if we’re in danger.” I glance at my sweet baby girl who sleeps like an angel. Tersia’s words come back to me when I say, “I need the facts to assess the risks.”

Dante is quiet for a moment. He looks at Claire, and then he says, “I’ll tell you if it’s dangerous to come to work.”

“Tell me,” I say, my voice carrying stronger.

He brushes the hair back from his forehead and stalks a few steps away before abruptly facing me again. “One of my guys said Raphael received a shipment of arms, but we don’t know what or how many he got.”

I go cold. “He’s getting ready for war.”

The glint in Dante’s brown eyes is calculated. “He already started it.”

And now he’s preparing to finish it.

“Sav’s got a handle on it,” he says, biting into the apple, but under his casual demeanor, I sense his concern.

“Why is it so important that we know what’s in the shipment?”

“To know what we’re up against.”

To know if we stand a chance. “What if we’re outnumbered and out-weaponed?”

Dante’s grin is downright scary. “Then we buy more weapons.”

With money we don’t have. As it is, I downscaled and cut costs to the point of shooting ourselves in the foot. The business needs money to make money. And I have a back payment to a lethal loan shark coming up.

No matter from what angle I look at it, it seems we’re very probably, most likely fucked.