“Yes,” Bruno answers without even a single thought. “Is he doing the infamous meal or is it a party?”
“He’s throwing a grand party, so you can get in and not be seen if that’s what you want,” Carlo offers the option. “We can make sure Papà even never even knows you’re there.”
Bruno’s lips twist a little with a smirk, and I see his fists clench. “If I’m honest, I want a little word with our baby brother, Giovanni.” Bruno’s face is hooded with so many raging emotions at the thought. Apparently, my comment about Giovanni having a hand in last night’s game doesn’t award him any gold stars. “If he wants to play the devil’s advocate, he’ll have to put up with the wrath of me.”
My phone goes off and I hesitantly reach into my pocket for it for fear it’ll be my father calling to get me to go home. It causes the room to fall silent, so obviously we’re all waiting for the call of Dio Del Sangue. I’m nowhere near ready for that. I’ve been ignoring every sound out of it all morning, but now I know I need to look. When I glance at the screen of my iPhone, I notice I have three missed calls from my father compared to eight from Zane. His presence on my phone has me screwing my face up as I make sense of it. I notice a few texts and swipe to open them, entering my password to unlock the screen entirely and read the multiple texts I have.
Hey you, you’ve gone silent in my life again.
*
Amelia, give me a chance. What we had we was good. I’ve grown up a lot since the last time we saw each other.
Give me one date to prove it.
I can’t help but feel giddiness swirl to life within me, and my heart skips a beat at seeing Zane’s name. Right now, without his death sentence in mind, it’s the best thing I have.
“What’s that face for?” Carlo asks as he finally leaves from his perch before me.
“Zane’s texted me and called me a lot.” I look up, trying to resist the blush that is taking over me. I don’t die from the thrill of these things; I take command and allow men to die for the opportunity to have me that way. Men die for me. I don’t die for lust. “He wants to go on a date with me.” As much as the excitement wants to take me over full throttle, I can’t help but panic that if I arrange a date, it’ll be one more step closer to his death.
Enzo places his coffee down and approaches me. He pulls me up from my seat. “There’s a bag of your clothes in my car. Go take a shower, get dressed, and go on a date with him, Amelia. Allow yourself to be twenty-three and in love, for Christ’s sake.”
“What about Papà?” I ask warily.
“Just go and be twenty-three and let me know when you’re coming home. Carlo and I will make sure Papà steers well clear,” he vows, and I feel my rapid heartbeat slow.
I say nothing but take Ezo’s car keys, leave the house, and pull out my phone to look up the number Zane gave me as I approach Enzo’s yellow and black Camaro. I dial it as I walk down the garden and feel my heart do a ridiCoglioneus dance in my chest. It rings a few times, and I start panic that maybe he won’t answer. I begin to chew my lip with an impending amount of nervous energy.
“Hello?” he answers, his voice confused. I never gave him my number back and my number shows up as unknown most of the time.
A small smile begins to appear on my lips. “Hey, it’s me.”
I hear a small chuckle down the line. “Amelia, Amelia, Amelia Abbiati.”
It’s amazing that just hearing him say my name offers me more salvation than any other deed my brothers could have done. With that, I decide to bite the bullet and live a little for myself – not my father.
“How do want to meet up?”
CHAPTER SIX
I had to wait for Zane to finish his shift before he called to tell me a place. He’d told me he had been at the golf club on The Chelsea Pier by the Hudson River for an hour and had no plans on leaving, so that would be probably be my best bet.
His normal cheerfulness and tease was vacant from his voice, and I find myself wondering what’s happened today to have him at a golfing range. When we were together, he would always come here when we had an argument or one of the men on his squad got hurt. Zane might strive to be one of Manhattan’s finest detectives, but his heart causes a lot of pain for him in the long run. His compassion is one that saw him rank high at such a young age and his ferocity to do only good put him in good standing.
As I enter, armed with my own golfing card ready to join him, I look down at the multiple emptying spaces for golfers to spend time perfecting their swing. I spot Zane a little way down the range and watch for a moment as he twists his body to take another swing at the awaiting golf ball. He’s dressed in loose jeans, black combat boots, and a tight, grey t-shirt. When he takes a swing and the ball propels out at rocket speed, I take that as my opportunity to approach him.