THE MAFIA’s PET

FIRST DAY AT WORK

Monday morning, I woke up with one thought.

I was going to kill Antonio Dante.

Not today, obviously. I’m not stupid. The man could make my body disappear before lunch.

But someday? Oh, absolutely.

A bird was chirping outside my window. Loud.

Even the bird was pissing me off.

I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it.

Three weeks ago, I was a girl working at a club with her best friend, counting tips on the bus. Now I was married to a man who could end someone with one nod, and I was about to go work in his office.

Wonderful. Just great.

Three garment bags hung beside my wardrobe. He’d said he’d have everything delivered, and of course he did. Silk blouses. Blazers. Shoes that looked like they’d bite me if I walked wrong. Definitely cost more than everything I’d ever owned.

At the bottom of the biggest bag was a small black box. A gold watch.

I flipped it over.

L.A.

Engraved. On the back.

Cheesy.

I stared at it for a long time. Then I put it on.

Don’t ask me why.

“God, please give me patience,” I whispered. “Because if You give me strength, somebody is dying.”

A knock.

“Miss Abato? Breakfast.”

“Coming!”

I changed three times. Cream blouse, black trousers, heels. I looked different. Good different.

Antonio was already at the table in a dark suit, looking like he’d stepped off a magazine cover and been mean to the photographer.

“Good morning.”

He didn’t look up. “You’re late.”

I looked at the clock. “It’s seven forty-five.”

“Exactly.”

I sat. Grabbed toast. Did not say what I wanted to say.

“You didn’t have to buy me all that stuff.”

“I’m not letting my wife walk into my office looking like she shops at a dollar store.”

“What’s wrong with a dollar store?”

“Nothing. If you’re buying cleaning supplies.”

I chewed my toast very aggressively.

Then he slid something across the table. A black card.

“What’s this?”

“Your allowance.”

“My what?”

“Try to keep up, Lucia.”

I picked it up with two fingers like it was a dead mouse. “Do I look twelve to you?”

“No. Twelve-year-olds are less trouble.”

I dropped it. “Keep your money.”

“Fine.”

He took it back. Slipped it in his pocket. Not even a blink.

That annoyed me more than if he’d argued.

“Car leaves in ten minutes.”

“Ten? I haven’t even finished my—”

He was already gone.

⸻

Twenty minutes in the back seat with Antonio Dante.

God, help me.

I tried to mind my business. I really did. I looked out the window, checked my nails, even counted the cars beside us at one point. Anything to avoid acknowledging the fact that he was sitting right there.

But how was I supposed to ignore a whole man sitting two inches away from me?

The man didn’t even have to speak. He just sat there, looking all irritated, making the entire car feel smaller than it was.

He was frowning at his phone. Little line between his eyebrows.

I looked away. Looked back.

What was he reading? Business stuff? Messages from his criminal friends? A list of people he planned to bury by Friday?

“Something on your mind?”

I jumped. “No.”

“Then stop staring.”

“I’m not staring.”

He turned his head. Slowly.

I turned mine faster.

Then the car stopped, and I pressed my face to the window like a child.

Dante’s Group.

Was that one building or five buildings glued together? Glass everywhere. It just kept going, and I couldn’t even see where it ended.

What the hell did Antonio need all that space for? Was everybody in Milan working for him or something?

I sat back.

“Wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just admiring your little money-laundering establishment.”

The driver coughed.

“Lucia.”

“What? It’s a joke.”

“Come here.”

“Why?”

“Do you have to question everything?”

“Yes. It’s one of my best qualities.”

His jaw ticked. For a second, I thought he’d grab me just to prove a point.

He leaned in, and I stupidly pressed myself against the door, my heart doing something embarrassing as his eyes dropped to my lips and lingered a second too long.

“Still got something to say, sweetheart?” he murmured, so close I almost forgot how to breathe—and then his gaze flicked back to mine.

“Antonio, what are you doing?”

“You know what your problem is?” he suddenly asked.

“Uh, sure. Where do I start?”

“You think everything’s a game.”

I almost laughed. But his voice had gone low, and it wasn’t the usual cold. It was something else. Something tired.

Was I finally getting under his skin?

Crazy how I really wanted that to be true.

Before I could say anything, he opened his door and walked out.

⸻

Inside, everybody was going about their business, moving files from the printer to folders.

They all straightened up immediately he walked in. Everywhere felt ghostly.

“Mr. Dante!” A man in a tight suit jogged over, clutching a tablet. “Your nine o’clock moved to nine thirty. Zurich investors are here. And Mr. Vladimir is upstairs.”

“I’ll be there in five.”

“Yes, sir.”

I trotted after Antonio. “Who’s Mr. Vladimir?”

“Jackson Vladimir. He runs some of our bigger operations.”

“Is he nice?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’d just like one person in this building not to look at me like they’re picking out where to bury me.”

“Lower your expectations.”

“Whatever,” I said, rolling my eyes.

The elevator opened. He stepped in, and I followed.

The doors started to close.

“Antonio! Wait!”

A hand shot between them.

The woman who walked in was stunning. Long dark hair. Red lipstick. Black dress under a red coat. She had that kind of confidence I could only dream of. Like she’d never had to stand in front of a mirror wondering if she looked good enough to be somewhere.

She smiled at Antonio.

Then her smile faltered when she saw me.

She kept looking at me, trying to figure out who I was, before finally asking.

“Lucia Abato,” Antonio said. “My new personal assistant.”

She laughed.

“Your assistant? Oh my God, you’re serious.”

“Problem, Serena?”

Serena. So this was Serena Valenti. The one who’d been calling nonstop. I knew because her name had flashed on his phone screen multiple times.

“Not at all.” She smiled, but her eyes stayed on me a second longer than necessary. “Welcome to Dante’s Group, Lucia.”

“Thanks.”

On the next floor, she stepped out. As she passed me, her shoulder brushed mine. Barely.

The doors closed, and I turned to Antonio.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What the hell was that?”

He didn’t answer right away. He just watched the numbers climb.

Then, quietly, he said, “Stay away from her.”

“Oh, fantastic.” I threw my hands up. “Ten minutes in the building, and I already have an enemy.”

“You don’t have enemies.”

“She just glared me to death!”

“She didn’t glare.”

“Then why did she look at my watch?”

His head turned.

“She’s clearly judging you, figuring out who you truly are to afford that. Can’t you tell?”

I scoffed.

They gave me a desk outside his office. Completely see-through. Couldn’t even devise my revenge plans in secret. Perfect.

I sat there for an hour, pretending to read an email I couldn’t understand. When I finally dug into my blazer pocket for a pen, my fingers hit a piece of paper.

Folded small. Not mine.

I hadn’t put it there.

I unfolded it under the desk.

Don’t forget about our discussion. Let’s meet up before you meet your end, too.

Moretti!

I sighed and looked up.

Through the glass, Antonio was watching me.

Fuck! You scared the crap outta me, dumbass.