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"Pfft. I’m remarkably difficult to offend. It infuriated my late husband. He could hurl the most despicable insults at me, and they wouldn't penetrate."

"Why would he say anything despicable to you?"

"Because not every man possesses the gentleness of my Nico."

I take a large sip of champagne, then confess, "I'm unsure how much you know about your son's business."

"I know enough details," Gianna replies.

"My mom was killed in a mob confrontation. She wasn't even involved. She wasn't entangled in the conflict, the war, whatever it was. She was simply living her life – until she wasn't. And now..." The champagne has loosened my tongue, but unburdening myself feels almost therapeutic. "I'm trapped. Because Nico, he's... well, I'm attracted to him, okay?" When Gianna smiles, I snap, "You shouldn't look so pleased about that. I can't allow myself to like him. It feels morally wrong. He's embedded in the mob."

Gianna flinches, scanning our surroundings, then relaxes upon confirming our privacy. "It isn't what you might presume, dear."

"So he isn't entangled with the mob?"

Gianna's demeanor changes. She leans forward with intense seriousness. "If what you're suggesting is accurate, you understand there would be severe consequences if you weren't who you claim to be..."

"Excuse me?"

"If you were an undercover agent, for instance."

I laugh. This conversation has suddenly veered into surreal territory. But Gianna remains solemn.

"Consequences?" I echo.

"In this world, certain matters elude even Nico's and my control. Betrayal is one of them."

"I'm not a rat," I assure her. "Wait – what do you mean, you and Nico control?"

Gianna sips her champagne deliberately. "I'm fond of you, Sienna. In fact, I'm genuinely drawn to you. I noticed something distinctive about you immediately. It transcended the portrait, your artistic prowess. It was... your luminosity. You captivated my son."

"I captivated him?"

"When I saw the way he gazed at you, I recognized something unprecedented. That's why I'm inclined to reveal the truth. But I need assurance that you'll maintain absolute confidentiality. With everyone. Permanently."

"Or face consequences," I state.

"I wouldn't let anyone harm you, dear, but you'd need to leave Dallas. You'd need to abandon Texas, possibly even the country."

"You still haven't articulated anything that makes sense."

"If you're attracted to Nico, don't let this mob perception deter you. He's not who you evidently believe him to be."

"He's not a Don?"

Gianna surveys the bar before continuing, "The fact I'm even contemplating sharing any of this with you shows how exceptional you are, Sienna. I'm not suggesting you should feel grateful or impressed, or... anything. But I want you to understand, despite our brief acquaintance, I value you. Your artistry, certainly, and you as an individual."

I resist the urge to let her words flatter or disarm me. I’m trying to remember who I am: the way my mother died. The blood. The agony, physical for her, psychological for me. But in this moment, Gianna exudes vulnerability and empathy.

"I like you too," I admit awkwardly.

"My son is the Don, and I serve as his consigliere... his second-in-command."

Fortunately, the music in the bar is loud enough, as my audible gasp would have attracted attention otherwise. "What?"

She nods. "It's difficult to explain?—"

"Try," I interject.