The underboss’s surrogate

Chapter Five

Aria’s POV

"Come here tonight. Eight o'clock. Wear something nice."

Jasmine says it like she is ordering lunch. Then she stands, smooths her dress, and walks me to the door.

"Thank you," I say. My voice sounds strange to me. "I do not know how to thank you."

She pauses. Looks at me.

“No need to for that i just have a special liking for you “she says. "Run along."

I run along.

The walk home is different from the walk here. Lighter. My feet still hurt. My chest still aches. But there is something under it now that was not there this morning.

Hope. I do not trust it. But it is there.

I push open the door and stop.

The apartment is clean.

Not tidy. Clean. The floors are swept. The dishes are done. The cushions are straight on the couch. And there is a pot on the stove, and steam is rising from it, and the whole kitchen smells like noodles and garlic.

Matteo looks up from the counter.

"You are back early," he says.

I set my bag down slowly.

"You did all this?"

"I was bored."

I laugh. It comes out of me before I can stop it, and it feels strange in my throat, like a muscle I forgot I had.

"You were bored."

"Yes." He shrugs. "I also want to look for a new job. Something after school. I have been thinking about it."

Wow. I do not say it out loud.

"That is nice," I say instead. "I never actually liked the idea of you working. But" I shrug back at him, an imitation of him, and he almost smiles. "Maybe."

"Where are you going tonight?"

"Out. Eight o'clock."

He nods like that is a normal thing for me to say.

"Okay."

Then he takes his bowl and goes into Mama's room.

He has done that since the day she went to the hospital. Every evening. He sits in there with her things and her smell and her photograph, and he studies, and he does not talk about it.

I do not stop him.

I should visit her. Two more days until I am supposed to go. I should take the bus and sit beside her bed and hold her hand and lie to her about how well everything is going.

But not tonight.

Tonight I have somewhere to be.

I go to my room and open my bag. I count what is left. A few notes. Not enough for a taxi. Enough for the bus, if I am careful, if I walk the last part.

I count it twice.

Then I sit on my bed and look at the ceiling and let myself breathe.

Please. Let this be the end of it.

Marco’s POV

The meeting ends at seven.

I loosen my tie in the back of the car and let my head fall against the seat. Long days like this, I would rather go home. The estate. The quiet. A shower and a glass of something dark and no one asking me anything.

Instead, I am going to Jasmine's office.

Of all the things on my desk this month the Milan shipments, the problem with Salvatore's people in the north, the marriage I do not talk about this is the one I want to finish.

An heir.

Not because I want one. Because without one, everything I have built sits on a table with a knife beside it.

I expected Jasmine to take weeks. She called within the hour.

That bothered me. It usually means she found someone desperate. Desperate is easy to control. Desperate is also unpredictable. I have no patience for either.

"Sir." Dario slows the car. "We are here."

I look out the window.

She is sitting beside Jasmine by the glass wall. Dark hair pulled back. Plain clothes. Hands in her lap.

Not bad.

I hate that I think it. I correct myself in the same breath. It does not matter what she looks like. What matters is that she understands the terms and does not cause problems.

I go inside.

"Aria," Jasmine says, standing. "This is Marco."

"Marco."

"Aria."

Her voice is quiet but it does not shake. She looks at me the way you look at a bill you are not sure you can pay.

Jasmine steps toward the door.

"I will let you two finalize your things."

The door clicks shut.

I sit across from her and slide the folder over.

"You have gone through the file. You know what is required of you." I keep my voice flat. "I will not tolerate complications. No contact outside the arrangement. No questions about my business. And I am married."

She nods once.

"Yes,Ok,Congratulations, sir."

I almost stop at that. Not I know, not that is fine, not a wounded face. Congratulations. Said plainly, like she means it, like it costs her nothing.

I do not know why that sits in me wrong.

"May I ask something?" she says.

"Ask."

"The amount."

There it is.

Another one. They always want the money first, and they always pretend it is the last thing on their minds.

"Sixty million," I say. "Will that do?"

She is quiet.

I look up.

Then she blinks, and something in her face changes. She shakes her head like she is embarrassed.

"No. Sixty is actually okay. I am sorry. Sixty is fine."

Hm.

She flinched at her own greed.

That is new.

I push the pen across the table. She signs her name without reading it twice. She has already read it. Last night. Alone.

"I will forward this to Jasmine," I say. "She is one of the few people who knows. Anything else, I will explain in time." I stand. "My driver will pick you up first thing tomorrow. Be ready."

"Mr. Marco."

I stop.

She has her hands folded tight in her lap now. The first sign of nerves all night.

"May I ask a favor?"

Here.

"Go ahead."

"Can I receive a sum of eight million? Tonight? Before the..

"Call out the account number."

She does.

I type it. Ten million. Send.

Her phone lights up on the table. She looks at it. Her mouth opens.

"Ten?" She looks up at me. "Thank you. Thank you. But I only asked for eight."

"Keep the rest."

"No." She pushes her phone toward me, like I can take it back. "Please. I asked for eight. Take the other two."

I stare at her.

Twenty-four years old. Worn hands. A jacket with a torn seam. And she is giving money back.

"Keep it," I say again.

"Thank you." Her voice cracks on the second word. She presses her lips together hard. "I do not know how to thank you."

I should say do not thank me. This is a contract. That is what I planned to say. That is what I always say.

Instead I stand there a second too long.

Dario opens the door behind me.

"Be ready at seven," I say.

Then I leave.

And in the car, on the way home, I find myself looking at the seat beside me thinking where all this would lead

I do not think about the money.

I think about the fact that she did not hesitate