Page 107 of Broken Wolf Heart
The bartender from Altobello’s. One of Franco’s most trusted…associates. If anyone’s going to be pissed at how things have gone, it’s him.
“What can I do for you?” I ask warily.
“Well, since you brought it up, what are your plans for the restaurant?”
I blink, absorbing his words for longer than necessary. Mostly because it’s not the I-want-to-kill-you vibe I expect. “What do you mean?”
“Well, the place belongs to you. So, I guess it’s your call, but it’s a community staple, you know?”
“What’s my call?”
His brows knit. “Whether to open it or keep it shut down. It wasn’t you who gave the order to close?”
I shake my head. “No. Honestly, that place hasn’t even been on my radar yet. Lots to figure out.”
“Yeah, I get that.” But he still looks confused. Or suspicious. I tense again, trying to decipher how much of that is a preamble to declaring himself my enemy.
“Well, I guess we’ll just wait and see,” he says finally before sauntering off toward the kitchen.
I watch him go and can’t help but mutter, “I guess we will.” In more ways than one.
After that, more pack members come to offer their well-wishes. Joan Balistrieri stops to tell me she’s proud of me—as if she had some hand in all this—along with her husband, Fortuna, who apparently is now my financial advisor.
“Come by the office or call me when you’re ready to meet,” he says. “I’ll make room for you whenever’s convenient.”
“I’ll do that.”
“Of course, Franco and I used to meet over whiskey and cards.” Fortuna laughs hoarsely, and I wonder how many cigars are included in those “meetings” he’s had with Franco over the years. “But you get to do things any way you want, boss.”
Boss.
I don’t come up with a response to that before they get distracted by Andy, and Joan rushes over to gush about her new promotion.
“Aunt Joan…” Andy meets my eyes, and I bite back a conspiratorial smile. Joan’s only a loyal pack member to me. To Andy, she’s an aunt who thinks she’s a mother hen.
More guests come to tell me I did well to land my new position and have handled the opposition impressively so far. At first, I think they mean Vincenzo, but enough comments slip for me to realize they’re talking about how I took out three generals in one meeting all by myself. That’s when I realize the compliment is code for: You survived what should’ve killed you. It’s impressive. Terrifying. A little unnatural.
And I don’t blame them. I feel unnatural too.
Though he stands far enough away to avoid speaking to anyone, Grey hasn’t let me leave his sight. He’s stiff and silent, his gaze locked on every single person who gets too close to me. I can feel the way that dark creature inside him pulses under his skin like static, just barely contained.
It’s getting harder for him to hide it. Harder for me to pretend it doesn’t scare me. But we’re still no closer to figuring out how to stop it. I’m hoping, after today, things will quiet down long enough for us to go searching for answers.
I’m grabbing another glass of wine from a server’s tray when my phone buzzes in my hand. Andy gave it to me thismorning when she had to learn I’d spent the night safely away with Grey from Dutch. She wasn’t happy that I was unreachable, and I can’t blame her for it. The phone she gave me—or forced on me—is already programmed with “all the important numbers,” according to her. Grey watched the entire lecture she gave me—and approved.
Now, the caller ID flashes withSecurity, Front Gate.
I answer immediately. “Yes?”
“Alpha Giovanni,” the man says, voice clipped and tense. “We’ve got Diavolo visitors.”
My heart stutters, “Turn them away. No one from that pack is allowed through the gate. You already have your orders.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thing is…” He clears his throat. “You might wanna come see for yourself.”
I glance at Grey. He’s already watching me, jaw tight, and I have a feeling he probably heard everything the guard just said.
“Fine,” I say. “We’re on our way.”
