Cleo’s eyes flicker with curiosity. “Really? What kind of help?”
I shrug. “An extra set of hands to help at the shop, and someone with a new perspective on how she’s running things there.”
She glances down at her lap and refolds her napkin. “Are you sure she’ll want me there?”
“She doesn’t have a choice. She’s got enough money to pay for the next three months of rent, and then she’ll have to vacate the space.”
“You’d let her fail like that?”
“Failure is the unavoidable stepping stone for success. Me treating Loretta’s business like a charity isn’t doing her any favors.”
Cleo tips her head to the side. “Wait, so you allowed her to start this business?”
“Yes, when I became don. She’d asked my father for permission for years, but he always refused her.”
“Why didn’t you refuse? It goes against your family’s traditions, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t believe traditions should be immutable. It’s been more than a century since my family came to America, and the world has changed since then. With every generation, certain traditions fall by the wayside. And I’ve seen how women operate in the Camorra now. They are allowed to get involved in the business if they so wish, and many become powerful assets. Why deprive my family of that kind of potential advantage?”
No one in the Cosa Nostra would argue that the Camorristas in Italy have set up a formidable operation, and a lot of that has to do with their willingness to adapt their methods to the changing world instead of blindly sticking to tradition.
I smooth my hand down my tie. “If a woman comes to me and has a plan for how to contribute to the business, I am willing to consider it. But the situation with my cousin hasn’t gone well. I took a risk on her, displeasing her parents in the process. If she can’t turn her business around, it will make it harder for me to give other women a chance like that again.”
Cleo’s looking at me like I’ve grown antlers.
I’ll admit, the arrangement with Loretta is an experiment that’s on the verge of failure. She’s unmarried and her parents don’t like that I allowed her to delay getting paired off to someone, but I wanted to give this a try. When Loretta approached me initially, I thought she had what it took to make the business a success. But it’s been nearly a year since she opened the shop, and things are not looking good.
I top off Cleo’s champagne. “So? What do you think?”
She picks up the glass and takes a long pull. “I know what you’re doing. Helping your cousin isn’t the same as going to college, no matter how you present it to me.”
I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “The way I see it, you have two choices. Spend the rest of your life being miserable and wishing for something you can never have, or you can attempt to make the most of the hand you’ve been dealt. I already said I have no intention of keeping you caged. The only cage you’re in is the one you’ve got in your own head.”
She drains the rest of her champagne and mulls that over. I wait. I think I managed to get through to her.
At last, she gives me a stiff nod. “I’ll try to help.”
Finally. “I’ll let her know to expect you on Monday morning.”
Something unexpected happens. Cleo smiles at me.
It’s not a full-blown grin, but it’s enough to make something shift inside my chest.
A warm feeling washes over me. And as I’m admiring how that smile lights up her whole face, the window shatters.
CHAPTER 19
CLEO
Everything happens quickly. One moment, I’m wondering if maybe Rafaele isn’t exactly who I thought he is, and the next, I’m on the ground.
Someone is shooting up the restaurant.
“Fuck,” Rafaele growls, his body pressing down on top of me. “Stay down.” He’s already got a gun in hand, and he’s looking past me, trying to spot our attackers.
On the other side of the restaurant, the band trips over each other as they rush to flee through the emergency exit behind the stage. I’m about to yell at them to get down when one of them is shot in the back of his skull. His brain splatters everywhere.
Oh God. I squeeze my eyes shut as bile rises up my throat. I’m never going to unsee that.
More gunshots ring out, sounding closer than before.
The thought I might meet the same fate as that musician in a few minutes makes me shake uncontrollably.
“Cleo, look at me.” There’s no fear in Rafaele’s voice.