Page 20 of Of Lies and Shadows

She nods solemnly and reaches for the dough. “Will you help me?”

“Always.”

Together we begin shaping it, her small hands pressing gently beside mine. She glances up at me with those big, searching eyes.

“Does the shape really matter?” she asks.

I shake my head. “Not at all. As long as it’s made withlove.”

Her smile blooms slowly, sweet and secretive. She leans closer and whispers like she’s sharing a truth only the two of us will ever know, “Then it’ll be the best pizza in the world.”

As Alessio decorates his pizza with enough red peppers to burn a hole through it, I watch him with a small smile and ruffle his hair.

“You know,” I say casually, “we could invite your father to join us. He might like it.”

Alessio stops, but he doesn’t look up. “He’ll never join. He’s always busy or grumpy.”

Lucia, sitting across from him and carefully arranging spinach leaves into a heart shape, lifts her head. Her big brown eyes are solemn and bright all at once.

“Maybe you could use your mermaid powers,” she whispers with all the seriousness in the world. “You could make him say yes.”

I laugh softly, brushing flour off my hands, but the truth is… maybe I want him to join too.

Maybe I want to see if there’s any part of him that remembers how to be here, in the mess and the laughter and the sauce-smeared innocence of it all.

“I’ll go try,” I say, and when Lucia gives me an encouraging nod like I’m being sent off on a quest, I straighten my shoulders and head for the office.

The door’s slightly ajar, and I hear voices inside. I pause.

They’re speaking in Italian. It’s fast, clipped—Dante’s voice and someone else’s, a man on the phone.

“Sì, lo so che la GordoOverseas è indebitata,” Dante says. “Ma se la compriamo, semplificherà i controlli doganali. Possiamo usare le loro spedizioni come copertura.”

(Yes, I know Gordo Overseas is in debt. But if we buy it, it will smooth things with the port authorities. We can use their shipments as a front.)

I feel my breath catch.

Gordo Overseas.

I repeat the name silently, committing it to memory, even as guilt needles beneath my ribs. Based on the quick overview Don Salvatore gave me, Forzi’s operation relies heavily on illegal imports. A company like this would be a major asset or a devastating loss if the Vescari got control of it first.

Another pause.

“Ho già parlato con l’uomo a Zurigo. Vuole discrezione. Niente deve risalire a noi.”

(I’ve already spoken with the man in Zurich. He wants discretion. Nothing can be traced back to us.)

I take a breath, keeping my expression neutral as I raise my hand and knock once on the doorframe.

The silence inside is immediate.

A second later, Dante’s voice, colder now, sharper: “Yes?”

I push the door open and step in, offering what I hope is a pleasant, non-threatening smile.

“Sorry to interrupt. We’re doing pizza night in the kitchen. The kids are making their own, and… well, they thought it would be a good idea to invite you.”

He lifts a brow. “Pizza night? Never heard them mentionthat before.”

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