Page 45

"So..." Greg looks at me expectantly from across the table when we're seated. "Did this place used to be one of your local haunts?"

"It's actually my first time to be here," I admit sheepishly. "I just Googled for popular New Yorkmafiarestaurants—-"

Greg winces as soon as I say the forbidden word, and I guess Rufino's reallyisa popular restaurant with New Yorkfamigliasince those seated in nearby tables also turn to look at me like I've lost my mind.

The whole thing is funny, actually, but it also makes my heart ache because it reminds me of howallof the Marchettis used to react the same way, every time I slip up.

Stop it, dude! Just stop it!

"Are you alright?" Greg asks quietly.

A smile doesn't come as easily this time, and I end up forcing it in the end. "Sorry." I don't have the energy to lie, but I also know I only have to say a single word of truth, and I'll be sobbing like crazy in seconds.

Keep yourself together, Pen!

Greg studies me for a moment. "I know we agreed that we can't talk about Cesare Marchetti, since it would be a conflict of interest for me, but...how about I refer you to another law firm?"

"I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I don't think there's anything I can do that the Marchettis can't." I bite my lip afterwards, but even though I know I might end up sounding shamelessly demanding—-

"There is one favor I'd like to ask...if you think it's possible?"

"Name it."

"I know it's the Marchettis who requested for a media blackout on...on h-his case, but do you think you can ask around..." I'm just waiting for Greg to tell me I'm being stupidly hopeful and clingy at this point, but he doesn't.

"I will."

Greg hasn't made any secret of the fact that his law firm is convinced of Cesare's guilt, and even though I'm also aware his willingness to do me a favor won't come for free—-it's a risk I'm willing to take, and I find myself able to breathe more easily by the time a server comes by our table to take our orders.

I just want to make sure he's okay, and then I'll be okay, too.

The rest of the evening is surprisingly enjoyable, with Greg's stories about Pilar effectively distracting me from thinking about a certainmafiaboss.

I excuse myself to go to the ladies as our evening comes to an end, and when I return it's to find an elegantly wrapped gift box waiting for me on the table.

"Just open it before you say anything," he urges with a grin. "I guarantee you'll like it."

So I do as he asks, and he turns out to be right...since what's inside is nothing but a beautiful pen with my name engraved on it...and a contract that just happens to require my signature.

This is actually what tonight's dinner is all about, with Greg having pointed out in our last Zoom meeting that celebrating my inheritance is also one way of honoring Pilar's memory.

I sign my name on each page of the contract, and Greg hands me my copy before we leave.

"Thank you," I say simply.

"It's what you're paying me for," he reminds me as we walk out of the restaurant...and nearly bump straight into Cesare, whose hand was resting on another girl's back.

No. No. No.

I rub my eyes, but the vision in front of me doesn't go away, and Cesare's lip even curls as if he finds my shock pathetic.

"H-How—-" How long has he been out? How did he get out? How?!

"I've been out for almost a month."

His voice is cold and dismissive, and every word feels like a knife to my heart. The girl next to him looks like she's dying to speak, but one look from Cesare has her biting her lip, and when our gazes meet, the look in her eyes has my favorite hobby calling.

Cesare's new girl feels BAD...for me.