Page 12 of Cartel Devil

Sure. I wasn’t expecting you.

All the more reason for the text.

I park and head inside. My tío and tía are in the living room relaxing. Tía Elle’s legs are draped across my tío’s lap, with her computer resting on hers. She’s either writing another psychological thriller or working on edits for one. Tío Enrique’s reading her latest book on his e-reader. They’re the picture of perfect domesticity.

“I didn’t think I’d see you today, sobrino.” Nephew.

“I figured we could go over the contracts for the high-rise in Philly.”

I pulled that out of my ass, but I really do have a contract to review. My tío owns a construction and real estate development company that I pretty much run now. Mamá’s in commercial real estate. She either helps us buy the land or sell the buildings after we’ve built them. If it’s not Mamá, then it’s Tía Catalina since she’s in residential real estate and interior design.

Tía Elle looks up from her screen and assesses me. I can only imagine what’s coming next. She’s one of the most astute women I’ve ever met. I know she saw me leave with Tre.

“Did you have a nice night?”

I want to melt into the floor.

“I did.”

“Patrizia’s a nice girl. Well, woman now. I’ve known her since she was born.”

“You have?” I have the worst sinking feeling.

“Yes. You know who she is, right?”

“Vittoria’s friend through Serafina.”

I watch my tío and tía exchange a look that makes me want to hurl. I’m certain whatever I’m about to hear is going to make the hint of a hangover feel like a jackhammer’s drilling a hole in my brain.

“She’s from Boston.”

“Oh?”

I knew that from the start thanks to her accent.

“She’s a Vizzini.”

Motherfucker.

“She’s my goddaughter.”

Puta madre.

English wasn’t enough. Thinking in my first language tells me how fucked I truly am.

“Whose daughter is she?”

“Francesco and Kathleen’s.”

Wonder-fucking-ful.

¡Jueputa vida! Fuck my life.

Francesco is the Boston don’s younger brother, and his former capo dei capi—he lived long enough to retire. He’s married to a New Yorker who happens to be first cousins with the current NYC mob boss’s mother. That’s a fucking complicated story I only know half the details to. I can only imagine what the O’Rourkes will have to say if they find out I spent the night with Tre.

“Small world.”

“That it is.”