A Suite For The Mafia Boss

Old Friend.

AURORA'S POV

"Earth to you, Missy!"

Leo's voice cut through the fog in my head, and I nearly dropped the container in my hands. I looked down and realized it was sugar, not salt. I had zoomed out again.

I set it down and grabbed the right one without a word, though there was no excuse for the mistake.

Leo burst out laughing from the dining table. "You were about to put sugar in the food."

"I know," I said, forcing a smile.

"No, you didn't. You were completely gone. You've been standing there for like ten minutes." His voice dropped, the humor slipping into something closer to concern.

"You're supposed to be resting," I reminded him, trying to change the conversation.

"And you're supposed to be cooking."

"I am cooking."

"Yeah, you almost made sweet pasta."

I rolled my eyes and stirred the pot properly, and for a moment the kitchen felt normal like nothing had happened twelve hours ago.

I have come home a little after six that morning, and instead of sleeping, I had gone straight to the kitchen.

I didn't feel safe closing my eyes. Every time I tried, I saw it again, the gun, the lifeless body, the blood hitting my face, and then those sky-blue eyes studying me.

I quickly pushed the thought down. I wasn't going to let Damien Corey follow me home.

"So," Leo said, dragging the word out. "I met someone at the hospital. A girl. She was sitting in the waiting room."

I glanced back at him. "Someone sounds excited."

"I'm not excited," he groaned, though the smile stayed in his face. "What's her name?" I asked.

"I don't know." He admitted it sheepishly. "I was going to ask when I see her again."

"So you don't actually know this girl."

"Not really." He he shrugged casually. "But I know what she looks like. She has pretty eyes."

"You're really terrible at this."

"I haven't done this in a long time," he said, and something in his voice made the smile drop off my face before I could stop it.

He had missed so much.

School, friends, the small ordinary things eighteen-year-olds were supposed to be used to. His illness had taken it all and left him with hospitals, medication and the same walls of the house, over and over.

Maybe that was why a stranger's eyes in a waiting room could make his whole day.

"What happened to you?" he asked suddenly. "You've been pale since you got back from work."

I subconsciously touched my face. "I'm fine."

"You're not. You've been quiet since you got home."

"I worked all night. I'm just tired."

"Did something happen at the hotel?"

My grip tightened around the spoon. "No." It came out too sharp and defensive and he got startled. He studied me a moment longer, then decided to let it go, nodding after seeing that there was no point in pushing it further.

After breakfast I showered, changed, and told myself I needed groceries. I needed to be anywhere that wasn't inside my own head.

The morning sun sat high over the street, sidewalks crowded with people moving fast toward wherever they needed to be.

I had barely made it past the corner store when someone slammed into my shoulder. My purse was gone before I even registered the impact.

"Hey! Thief!"

I ran after him without thinking, my body moving faster than my brain could catch up to but he was too fast and I couldn't keep up with him.

Just then another man stepped directly into his path blocking him. The thief tried to cut around him and didn't make it.

The stranger's hand shot out, closing around his arm, yanking him back hard enough to send them both stumbling.

My purse hit the ground, I ran over and snatched it up against my chest.

"Are you okay?" the stranger asked.

I looked up. And froze. "Dave?"

His face broke open into a grin. "No way." He pulled me into a quick, tight hug like no time had passed at all, then held me back by the shoulders.

"When did you get back to town?" I asked

"About two months ago."

"And you didn't tell me?" I frowned and he gave me an apologetic look.

Something about his laugh eased the knot that had been sitting in my chest since last night.

Dave hadn't changed at all, the same smile, same way of turning everything into a joke before it could turn into something serious

I hadn't seen him in like four years after college and now Standing here with him felt strange and somehow familiar, like we were still in college and nothing had changed.

Except everything had.

He glanced at my purse, shaking his head. "You should be more careful. You were too busy staring at the guy to watch where you were going."

"I was chasing him, not staring."

"The same thing." He grinned, then nodded at the grocery bag looped over my arm. "I'm coming with you," he said, and took it from my hand before I could protest.

We moved through the store together with him talking and me listening.

By the time we reached the register, I had almost forgotten why I had been so distracted that morning.

"Can I drop you home?” he asked, loading the bags into his car before I even formed a response, already pulling the door open.

“You really haven't changed," I muttered, sliding into the passenger seat.

"That's what everyone keeps telling me." He chuckled.

As the car pulled away, I studied his profile. "So what do you do now? Are you still obsessed with painting?"

He groaned, but the smile gave him away. "Unfortunately. Paintings, commissions, whatever comes my way." He shrugged. "So I help with my family's business when I'm not working."

"That actually sounds responsible."

"Don't say that too loud. I have a reputation to protect."

I laughed, and for the first time since last night, the weight in my chest eased slightly.

When we reached my street, he pulled the call to a slow stop, help me gather the bags.

"Thank you, Dave."

"Anytime." He waited until I reached the pavement before driving away.

I lifted my head and was about turned then stopped. Across the road through the trail of moving cars someone stood on the sidewalk.

Tall, dark suit his face not visible.

I felt my breath caught in my throat. The distance was too far to be sure of anything. But something about the way he stood, the height made my stomach drop.

Damien.

It couldn't be.