“Am I supposed to think differently?”
He let out an unamused breath, but he didn’t say another word. He didn’t try to defend himself, and my stomach tightened with the need to assure him that wasn’t what I thought. Was it?
An itch began in my throat to apologize for what I’d insinuated as he walked across the office to leave, and I turned to see him open the door.
“James will be right outside if you need something. Stay here. I shouldn’t be gone long.”
“Nico, wait. I shouldn’t have said—”
Nicolas called into the hallway for a Lucky. Glancing back at me, he said, “No, you’re right. You shouldn’t trust me. I’ve already lied to you since we’ve been in this room.”
I swallowed. “About what?”
He paused with a hand on the doorknob. “I always just say she was a fan. It’s much easier to say than to explain that she was always so high she couldn’t tell a Monet from a fucking caricature painted on the street.”
“True love stories never have endings.”
—Richard Bach
THE DOOR SHUT BEHIND HIM, and I was convinced I was the worst person in the world at that moment. I had no idea about his mother. I’d assumed she’d died of cancer or some other illness, but now I wondered if it was an illness at all. I had imagined that in his family, the woman would be the only reliable and steady person to lean on. He didn’t even have that.
This painting had been his mamma’s, and he’d kept it even though she was probably far from the best parent.
He was good to his mamma.
I needed a drink.
As I took my time making a gin and tonic, a kid of fifteen or sixteen stepped in. Once he shut the door, he stood beside it with a stoic expression. I had a James in the hall and this must be Lucky. The nickname had conjured an image of a beefy man with a shamrock tattoo, not a boy. My fiancé must be initiating this kid, poor thing.
I smiled. “Hello. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Matteo, but everyone calls me Lucky,” he said, slipping his hands into his suit pants pockets.
“Why do they call you Lucky?”
“I suppose because I’m lucky, ma’am.”
A bit of amusement rose in me. “Nice to meet you, Lucky. I’m Elena, but you probably already know who I am, considering you’re my babysitter and all.”
He laughed a slightly uncomfortable laugh.
I flicked the TV on and got settled on the couch. For twenty minutes, I watched the news and sipped my drink, with the intermittent commotion from outside and the electro beat pulsing through the ceiling. Nico better be confident his gaming hall wouldn’t be busted while I sat in his office. Though, it wasn’t exactly a real worry of mine. An FBI agent showed up to his parties; I was sure he had the rest of the force in his pocket.
I sighed. Lucky had only been quietly standing by the door like the good Made Man in training he was. I grabbed a pack of cards off the coffee table and turned the box in my hands.
“Lucky, would you like to play cards with me?”
“Oh, well,”—he ran a hand across the back of his neck—“I’m no Ace.”
My brows knitted, unsure of what he meant. “I just thought cards would be a good alternative to us both dying of boredom.”
He chuckled. “Um . . .”
“Or are you not allowed to?” How strict was my fiancé with his men?
A corner of his lips lifted. “I’m only supposed to look in your direction when you speak to me.”
I guess that answers that . . .
With a sigh, he said, “One game.”
He didn’t sound so sure, and I hesitated because I didn’t want to get him in trouble. But he was already walking to the couch, and the truth was, I didn’t want to sit in silence any longer.
“Are you related to Nico?” I asked.
“Cousin,” he said. “My papà was his papà’s brother.”
Lucky was taller than me, but he was lean and wiry. Still a boy. I wondered what Nico was like at Lucky’s age. Probably still bossy and used to getting his way.
Poker was the game of choice, and when I told Lucky we didn’t have to play for money, he looked at me like I was crazy. I laughed. What a little Russo in the making.
So I played poker with this teen boy and bet money I didn’t have.
I lost.
I used to play often. Nonna had a taste for the game, and sometimes when my mamma got a hankering for “family night” we all got together and played.