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Jayla stares at me so pointedly, brimming with so much discomfort that she’s on the verge of tearing up. I have to blink away from her and focus on the others or else risk coming across as even more rattled than we are. My smile remains on my face, if a little frozen.

“That sounds like a good time, but we already have plans.”

“So cancel them. Who could be more important than me?”

An answer comes immediately to Luigi’s question.

The doors to Bocca fly open and in strides our chauffeur, Gavino. Where he’s looked so cute and unassuming in the past—as recent as this afternoon driving us—he suddenly bears a severe expression worthy of one of Luigi’s men.

…orany of the men in Rafael’s employ.

He’s no longer a boyish, dimple-cheeked young man but somebody crashing the scene where an alleged mobster’s having lunch.

“Apologies for breaking up the moment, but these ladies have to go,” he says in his thick Italian accent. “My boss’s orders.”

Luigi hacks out a laugh, mirth shining on his pointed face. He takes one look at Gavino in his prim and proper chauffeur’s uniform, his grin cracked wide. “Your boss? Who’s your fucking boss,leccaculo? The Monopoly man?”

“Rafael Calderone,” answers Gavino defiantly. “Ms. James is the woman of his interest. He sent her shopping this afternoon and now he would like her to return home. Are you ready to go, Ms. James?”

A distinct silence has fallen over the table. Luigi’s mocking smile has lost some of its luster as he eyes me and Jayla.

The two of us don’t need to be told twice—we’ve popped to our feet to cross over to Gavino’s side.

“Rafael Calderone,” Luigi repeats slowly. Then he nods as if in thought. “Who am I to stand in the way of such a renowned businessman? I didn’t realize he was dating the beautiful lady from the news. Such a shame I missed out.”

A cold shiver bristles its way down my spine. Luigi may seemingly be letting us leave, but there’s something unnerving about the way he goes about it. Everything from how he speaks to how he stares as we turn with Gavino and walk out makes me feel like the moment is much more significant than meets the eye.

I don’t breathe again until we’re at the town car, crawling into the backseat.

Jayla whacks me with a bag as soon as Gavino closes the door and walks around to the other side.

“I told you that was dumb as hell!” she cries out, purging the panic welled up inside. “We couldn’t have been more obvious!”

“Whose idea was it to order cannoli at lunchtime?” I snap.

“You got up to use the restroom, then slow-walked by their table!”

“Okay, okay, I’m in the wrong. I’m sorry, Jay.”

She folds her arms, shaking her head as she mumbles under her breath.

She doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the ride home.

Understandable considering what ended up happening.

Gavino drives us to our apartment in Crosby and takes the time to walk us up. Jayla darts inside without paying either of us mind. He stops me midway through my goodbye.

“Mr. Calderone would like you to spend the night at his place,” he says. “Would you be open to packing a bag and coming back down so I can drive you?”

I almost laugh at what sounds like a joke. “Wait, you’re not kidding?”

“I was on the phone with him when your sister and you went into Bocca. He was not pleased you stopped there,” he explains. “He sent me inside to collect you. He wanted me to let you know about staying the night.”

“Why couldn’t he ask me himself?”

“It has been a very busy day for him. He’s in business negotiations.”

“Right, forever busy businessman. Give me a few minutes. I’ll be down.”