Dare nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets as he did so. A sign of his nerves. Growing up under this man’s feet from age ten allowed him to recognize all of Dare’s tells.
“Sorry, yeah, you’re right. And I noticed all those flight changes.”
Alessio shrugged. “I tried to work something out, that’s all. It didn’t ... well, work.”
“I see.”
“Second,” Alessio continued, because he wasn’t done yet, and now seemed like the best time to get it out because he wouldn’t have time when he got back from this job, “you’re right, you overstepped your bounds.”
“And I’m sorry for that,” Dare added.
Right.
Alessio was aware.
That didn’t change a lot, though. At least, it didn’t change what he thought or had to say about all of this, anyway. He wanted his line to be clear between him and Dare, and in case the man hadn’t got the memo, that line was way before Corrado. Someone getting too close to Corrado, or the life Alessio shared with him, and his walls would go way up again.
Simple as that.
“If you have an opinion, and I care to hear it, then I will tell you. About Corrado and me, though? You could at least give me the same respect for him I’ve given you about Cree for the last decade. I never asked because it was not on the table. This is the same thing—or when you wanna stick your nosy ass into our issues, anyway. Just stay way the fuck back. Got it?”
“Understood.”
“And I get it’s because you care,” Alessio added quieter, softening his stance, “and I love you for that, but please stay out of it.”
Dare shifted on his feet, glancing away from Alessio as he did so. “That’s the first time you’ve said that—the love thing.”
“I’m doing a lot of new shit.”
“Huh.”
“I need to get going. Can you do me a favor?”
“I can try.”
If what Alessio thought about Corrado was true, then the man had shut himself off. He was powering down and putting a distance between himself and everything that might penetrate his very high walls.
That’s how he protected himself.
Not that there was anything Alessio could do about it right now. Not only did he need to get rid of his phone in the next minute, and he likely wouldn’t get to the Toronto penthouse when he got back for that two-hour layover because traffic was a bitch in the city. He would have no contact with him for the next week or two ... depending on how long this job lasted.
To Alessio, that all said one thing.
Corrado wouldn’t fix this mess—not the one made of himself, or the one he made with Ginevra because she had gone back to New York. Alessio would fix it because that’s just what he did.
They were all human.
They all made mistakes.
Alessio would let Corrado make his.
And he would fix them.
“Ginevra Calabrese, lives in New York, and she’s the illegitimate daughter of a dead Cosa Nostra boss,” Alessio said to Dare. “She has two full-blood sisters, if that helps to narrow it down. And her half-brothers were recently killed. Her half-sister, Siena, is still alive, same last name. You’ll find her somewhere around the Marcello family now, I think. I need as much information on her as you can pull for me by the time I get back. No one can be aware you’re pulling it and leave it in one of my folders for me to grab when I come back.”
Dare cocked a single brow. “That’s a woman.”
“And?”
“Why are you doing a check on a woman?”
“Because she’s ours,” Alessio explained, “and I don’t like waiting for other people to figure shit out that should be obvious.”
Dare didn’t reply.
Alessio was fine with that.
He had a fucking plane to catch, now.
• • •
Somehow—by the grace of God—traffic in Toronto hadn’t been bad. He went twenty over the speed limit to make it back to the penthouse with lots of time to still catch his flight on the way back, though. Not that it left him very much breathing room for minutes to stay ... because it didn’t.
Alessio had a whole ...
He checked the dashboard, the digital clock spelling out the time for him as he pulled the car he’d left at the airport when he first left the city to a stop in front of the building. Right in a No-Parking zone, too.
Fuck it.
Tow it, motherfuckers.
Ten minutes.
It’s all Alessio had to spare right now. If in that time he wasn’t able to convince Corrado to pull his motherfucking head out of his ridiculous ass, well, he would go to plan B. Which unfortunately, would have to wait until he got back on the continent.
Perfect.
Life loved him.
Sarcasm was Alessio’s best friend.
He left the car running at the curb, knowing he would be back down here and speeding through the city in no time to get back to the goddamn airport. Ignoring the look the doorman passed him when he didn’t even wait for the older gentleman to open the door, Alessio headed into the building.
He didn’t bother with the front desk—rarely did, anyway—instead opting to head for the bank of elevators at the other side of the entrance. A lady behind the desk calling his first name made Alessio hesitate in his steps.
He shot the redhead a look over his shoulder. “What?”
She smiled, waving a white envelope for him. “I’m supposed to give this to you, if I saw you come through.”
What?
He felt like a parrot.
Even inside his head.
Alessio glanced back and forth between the elevators, and the waiting woman. He didn’t have time to fuck around here—it would take him a few minutes to get upstairs, and inside the penthouse anyway.
“I’ll grab it on my way out,” he told her, going for the elevators.
“The penthouse is empty, sir. That’s why I have this.”
Alessio’s back stiffened.
Of course.
Fucking Corrado.
He loved the man.
Loved him stupid.
But he did dumb things.
And this was probably one of those.
Alessio spun on his heel and crossed the space to the front desk in six long strides. He took the envelope from the woman with a tight smile and turned his back to her as he ripped it open. Pulling the piece of white stationary from it, he found familiar handwriting staring back at him.
Something else people didn’t have a clue about Corrado?
He didn’t like to talk. Communication wasn’t his thing because he’d never been good at it when he was in a mood, and he would avoid it at all costs.
Corrado had known Alessio was coming back. It didn’t surprise him all that much that the man had done this—left him a small note—instead of sending him a message or answering one of his many texts.
I need a couple of days, it read. Sorry, Les. I’ll see you when you get back. Love you.–Corrado
Alessio tapped the paper against the palm of his hand, aware he had to get back to the airport soon.
Fuck it.
Plan B, then.
As soon as he got back.
27.
Ginevra
Andino had lied.
Sort of.
Ginevra could not immediately see her sisters when she arrived back in New York. Details, someone thought to explain. Yes, the girls knew she was coming back, and yes, she could see them soon, but first they had to finish out a few things.