Page 107 of The Mafia Assassin's Redemption-

“He’d love that, but I’m betting Mrs. Martin, who’s the housekeeper, already made some. She always makes sure his cupboards and fridges are filled with sweets.”

“Wait, you’re not the housekeeper?” Lucie says with a playful gasp. Then she leans toward me with a conspiratorial smile. “You know the Murphy men are very jealous.”

“I just do bookkeeping work and help with the flowers… actually, I arrange them.” I can’t keep pride from my voice. But then I falter. I like Lucie. I wish this were all different, that I was normal and made friends, but I haven’t been anything close to normal since I left Ireland as a child. “Speaking of flowers and bookkeeping work, I need to get moving.”

I wrinkle my nose.

“I have to change out the bouquets, but I really hate wasting the flowers. Before, I used to take some home and put them in a solution that my mom told me about that would keep them fresher for longer, but…”

“They go in the trash?” she asks. “Tell you what, there’s gotta be somewhere that wants them. Put them aside, and if there isn’t a place, we’ll give them away. I’ll make calls from the car and then pick up the cupcakes.” She winks. “I think we’ll be a great team, Harry.”

The bodyguard that lurks behind us steps out of the shadows to speak to her and I watch her leave with Mikey, who used to be her old driver back before the Murphys absorbed her family’s business. He’s taken on new roles within theMurphy organization since then, but apparently still drives her.

I get up from the pew and walk toward the office.

The Murphy family seems to be respected. Even Father Luigi, for all his talk about scary and powerful, seems to like Torin. Enough to make a bet with him.

I throw myself into my work, the quiet of the church working over me, through me, and it even slows the chaotic thoughts, smoothing the edges of my hatred and all the complicated feelings that go with it… the ones that are dangerously close to looking like love.

And I can’t escape them even though I desperately want to.

He’s my enemy on a bone-deep level.

I let that thought marinate.

It melts away.

I hate him.

Dammit, I can’t hold on to it anymore.

“Torin killed your family,” I say out loud.

But there’s no rise of fury inside me, just sadness and a whole lot of questions that sit uncomfortably in my mind. I get up and, tucking my hair behind my ears, I start collecting the vases and flowers.

When I’m ready to leave, the confessional line is down to two people. There’s someone in there, and when she leaves, the dark-haired beauty goes in. That just leaves the lady in the hat remaining.

Worry seeps in. Normally I’ll hear from or see at least one of the Murphy brothers while I’m here working.

I’d see Torin.

And so I wait for relief that doesn’t come. Worry snakes through my insides, and the fact that Lucie doesn’t share the same concern doesn’t matter.

I push out a breath. What’s happeningto me?

I should be worried about what Torin might do to Uncle Anthony. I should be?—

“Stop it,” I whisper under my breath, taking the first vase out to an empty spot to the right of the pews where light pours in from the stained glass. It’s where the prettiest bouquet always sits because it’s a focal point in the church. Then I carry out the flowers and focus on building a theme. White, cream, and green. Wintery welcome with a touch of color is perfect for the colder weather we’re getting this week. And?—

“Those are real pretty.”

I turn to look at the woman behind me. Her drawl sounds southern. Under her large-brimmed hat, she’s gorgeous with big dark eyes, pale skin, red lips, and long black hair.

She’s mafia, I think. But she doesn’t give off mafia vibes, which is weird. “I get them in from a commercial flower warehouse on Canal.”

“Do you have the address?” she asks as she studies me, a curious look on her face. “You know, you’re really not what I expected.”

Frowning, I lead her to the back of the church to write down the address, then hand it to her. “Not what you expected?”