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“Which ones?” he says to me like I’m twisting his arm to check out the delicious treats in the window.

There’s an array of them, and I’m drawn to the carrot cake ones with the candied ginger cream cheese frosting. Declan shoots them down.

“Look, Lucie, carrots are fine things to eat, but they belong with the vegetables on the dinner plate. Chocolate and vanilla. Or as a compromise, red velvet.” Then he leans in. “Callahan likes red velvet.”

I blush. I can’t help it. Because my mind’s full of me and Callahan in the dress shop, fucking in the dressing room on the red bench.

“Interesting,” he says, looking at me. “Very interesting.”

“Shut up and buy the cupcakes.”

“Where’s your purse?”

“I didn’t bring it. Don’t worry, Arnold and I will stand right here.”

He mutters something and hands me Clawzilla’s case, which I rest on the ground so Arnold can check on him. Then he heads into the bakery.

“Miss de Rosa.”

I whirl around, the intruding voice startling me. “Mikey.”

“Your father told me to find you. I was waiting down the road for you when I spotted you here. He needs you now.”

“I can’t, I’m waiting for?—”

“You have to come.”

And he slides a hand around my arm and drags me off. Arnold starts barking. Mikey rushes me into the SUV as Declan comes running out of the store, gun drawn low, phone pressed to one ear.

But Mikey’s already pulling away from the curb and he’s locked the doors.

“Mikey, you know this is kidnapping. Let me out.”

“Lucia,” he says, calling me by my first name, “please be calm. Everything’s going to be all right. I just need to make a call.”

I flop back on the seat, fuming.

Mikey talks low on the phone, but I’m pretty sure I hear him say ‘de Rosa’ and ‘sir’ and ‘Callahan.’

Reporting in to Dad? But Callahan already spoke to him. Maybe Dad wants to see I’m okay himself.

Thing is, Dad’s not exactly the warmest man. But the sooner this is over and done with, the better. I just wish I had my phone so I could let Callahan know I’m okay and not to hurt Declan.

He wouldn’t seriously hurt his little brother, but he might punch him. “Mikey, can you call Callahan or ask Dad to? Or even Mom?”

“It’s all fine,” he says. “And Mrs. de Rosa is on a retreat.”

My fucking parents.

I close my eyes until we reach Queens and I storm into the mansion, searching for Dad.

He’s reading the paper on the sofa in the great room. And he takes his time acknowledging me.

So I march off to his study where he has his landline.

Of course, I don’t know anyone’s actual phone number apart from my own because they’re all stored in my phone, but I can at least call a cab or a car service.

Dad appears in the doorway, the newspaper tucked under his arm.