Page 91 of The Fixer

At that, Paulo turned his gaze to Hector Alvarez, where he stood surrounded by my crew and Queenie’s men. In the chairs at the foot of the stairs, Cosimo Provenza bristled, turning his narrowed eyes toward his wife and his own men.

“We have fought a war and succeeded,” Paulo continued. “We have cleaned house of the traitors who sought to bring us down. And we have learned who we truly are.”

Queenie handed her father a glass of champagne, and he leaned in close to her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. Beside me, Piper tugged at my sleeve.

“For you, Zio Jet.” She handed me a half glass of champagne, the bottom dripping with the sparkling liquid.

“Thank you, Piper,” I whispered before she ran off to stand at my mother’s side. Rebecca squeezed in beside me, handing me a napkin.

“There is one among us I wish to draw attention to today,” Paulo said, raising his glass in front of him. “This man has shown the potential for greatness from a young age. He has stood by me through thick and thin, given his life and his safety to protecting me and this entire organization. He has anticipated my needs, often before I understood those needs myself.”

Paulo gave a smile as a chuckle tumbled through him. He shook his head. “This man went against my direct orders to lay low this summer.”

Around me, uneasy laughter rolled. Eliza gripped my arm, then leaned her shoulder into mine. The girl was smiling up at me, but my mouth had run dry.

“But,” Paulo continued when the laughter died down, “he saw a need, and he did what needed to be done. He quietly brought down a murderer. He saved the daughter of my good friend. And he helped stop a scheme that, had it continued to go on, could have equaled the financial ruin for hundreds of innocent people.”

Paulo’s dark eyes turned toward me. I was frozen. Speechless. My chest tightening and my stomach dropping to the ground.

“Jet Pasternelo, come on up here.”

I was unable to move, muscles unwilling to respond to Paulo’s request on their own. I was jostled forward, guided up the steps until I was standing at Paulo’s side. Mateo grabbed hold of the back of my suit, spinning me around to face the crowd. Holding me up until Eliza squeezed in next to me, her warm body and her gorgeous smile giving me the strength and support I needed so I wouldn’t fall to the ground.

“Jet, I have never been more proud of you. You took care of business quietly and efficiently. You did everything I would have asked of you if I’d had any idea you were doing it at all.”

More laughter rolled, and I swallowed twice, licked my lips, trying to get some moisture in my mouth.

“And that’s why,” Paulo continued once more, “I’m appointing you as my newest lieutenant.”

My world spun as applause and cheering exploded from the crowd. Paulo gripped my hand, giving me a hard shake that did nothing to clear my head.

Everything was a blur. Every hand shake, every congratulations uttered my way, came and went while barely registering in my brain. I was passed through the crowd, handed off from one person to the next, welcomed into a position I never, ever thought I would be in.

I was overwhelmed, numb to my surroundings and needing a moment to cope. When a lull in the handshakes hit, I spun on my heel and slipped inside the house.

Only to stop dead in my place.

“Jet.” My father stood in front of me, and my name from his lips finally pulled me out of my head. I was always Giraldo to him, never Jet.

“Babbo?” I forced out, the word nothing more than a rasp.

Every hard line of his face softened, his dark eyes filled with emotion. He opened his arms, and for the first time since my life had been thrown off course when I was twelve, my father pulled me into a hug.

“I’m so proud of you, my son.” He pulled back, gripping me by the outside of my arms. “I never doubted for a moment this honor would be yours. You were destined for this.”

My brow furrowed, years of hurt and rejection climbing up my throat.

“I don’t understand. You sent me—” I couldn’t finish, but I didn’t have to.

“Your father didn’t send you away, Jet,” Paulo said from behind me.

Turning to look over my shoulder, I knocked my father’s hands loose. His grip left me slowly, as if he didn’t want to let me go.

“After everything that happened, we knew you were suffering. He came to me begging for help. We never wanted anything but the best for you.”

“And that was you?” I accused even though my heart told me to shut up.

“I believed it was. You weren’t the same person anymore. And I hoped, by giving you the one thing you’d always wanted, we might get you back.”