Page 118 of Velvet Chains

I swallowed. “Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”

Natalia handed me a fresh glass, all business, not meeting my eyes as she scrubbed around the rim. “So what are you going to do about him?”

“Nothing,” I said, sharper than I meant it. “I’m going to let the feds do whatever radioactive thing they want to do, and after that, maybe I can convince Julian to move to the suburbs.” I said it like a joke, but as soon as I heard it in the hollow air, it burned. “It might mean the end of my career as a prosecutor, and I would, you know, fucking hate that. But what difference does it make if I can keep Rosie safe?”

Natalia gave me a long, hard look—didn’t flinch, didn’t soften—then turned back to the sink. “And you’re okay with that?”

“What am I supposed to do, Nat?”

“Marry him?”

I blinked. “What?”

She tilted her head toward the dining room. “You’ve married for less. You clearly care about this man.”

“What would happen to my reputation as the first female Boston DA if I married a known mob boss?”

“Is he a known mob boss, or does he just happen to be unfortunately related to one?”

I laughed. “No, he’s a mob boss. Trust me. I know.”

Natalia didn’t blink. “Right. And Jackie Kennedy still married Jack after the mob helped him win West Virginia. Margaret Trudeau was practically chased around Ottawa by the press and she still kissed Castro on the mouth. People forgive powerful men—and they worship the women who can survive them.”

“You think I can spin this?”

“I think if you spin it yourself, it’s a tragedy. If someone else spins it? It’s history. Women don’t get to be in charge of their own legends unless they make the mess themselves and smile while doing it.”

I blinked. “That’s not how criminal conspiracy works.”

“No,” Natalia said, “but that is how public memory works.”

I blinked. “You think I can spin this?”

“I can stay in the States. Handle your PR.”

“I love you, Nat,” I said. “But right now, my priority is keeping Rosie safe. And I’m a prosecutor. This isn’t just scandal. It’s absolutely felony territory.”

“How would making one of them an ally not keep her safe, though?” Natalia asked.

Julian entered the kitchen right then, his gaze darting between us, an empty wine bottle in his hand. “Refill,” he said. “What are you two talking about? Because you’re being far too quiet for how drunk you seem.”

“Men,” Nat immediately replied. “And how hopeless they all are.”

“Yeah, I won’t argue with that. Do you have more Zinfandel, Ruby?”

I nodded, pointing toward where the wine was. Julian’s gaze darted between us. “Can you take this out to Valerie, Nat? I’ll help Ruby finish up.”

“That’s my cue,” Natalia said, flipping a long strand of jet black hair on her shoulder and grabbing the wine. “She’s lovely, by the way, Julian.”

Julian smiled. “Yeah. She’s nice.”

“Don’t fuck this one up.”

“Working on it, Nat.”

She winked at him as she made her way out of the kitchen. Julian waited until she was out of earshot, then he turned.

“You want to tell me what’s going on now?”