Dante

I lean against the wall of the elevator chugging up the building to where Eleni waits and look at myself in the shiny black reflection. My suit nearly disappears, but my face sticks out like a sore thumb. If elevator reflections can be believed, I look pale and tired. In its defense, I feel pale and tired. It's Friday, and I've barely seen El all week except to pack her off to the women's prison to talk to a psychopath who kidnapped her. Even worse, I've spent almost the whole week at Piacere.

Just thinking about my once-beautiful club hurts. My shoes and the bottoms of my pants are gray from tramping through ash, trying to find anything in the wreckage worth salvaging. Somebody located the door to the basement, which is mostly untouched, on Wednesday, so we've been in and out of there constantly. I've got a metric fuck-ton of booze and nowhere to sell it. The stage, the lights, the bars, all gone in one blaze. Two people fucking died. Going out to Piacere every day is a nightmare, but I can't pick the business back up without it. Lou's has been a good interim headquarters, but it's fucking tiny, and I think Lou's about two snarky comments away from smacking Tony upside the head. No, we need Piacere or something like it, and that means figuring out what to do with what remains of the Russian attack.

The elevator dings, and the doors open into the apartment. One of Eleni's guards, Sal, looks up from his spot in full view of the door.

"Afternoon," he says. "She's in the office."

I nod gratefully and head that way, loosening my tie as I go. Before long, I start to hear voices. No, voice. Just El.

"Yeah?" she says. "What are the papers saying?"

That sounds like a school call. I slow down a little, trying not to interrupt.novelbin

"Mysterious." She laughs. "I like that."

There's an edge to her laugh I usually don't hear when she's talking about school stuff. I furrow my eyebrows and knock on the slightly open door to her office. "What's up, Sal?" she calls.

I poke my head in. "Close, but no cigar."

"Dante!" She nearly throws her phone down, then seems to remember she's on a call. "Talk later. Bye." She hangs up and leaps out of her chair.

I step in fully and open my arms. She slams into me. I take a long, deep inhale. I've even missed the smell of her. Technically, we've shared the bed for at least part of most nights, but it's not enough. I need to see her more. She pulls back first. "I didn't know you were going to be home on time today."

"Me neither," I admit. "But I was staring at this fucking spreadsheet, and I just thought to myself, what the fuck am I doing? I don't have to put up with this. I'm the goddamn boss."

She laughs. "I wish I could say that to my professors."

I groan. "That bad already?"

"No, not really." She circles back to her desk. "I was just trying to join in the complaining. Classes are actually going pretty well."

"Oh yeah?" I take the seat across the desk from her. "Well, I'm here now. Tell me everything."

She purses her lips and sits. "I'd actually rather tell you about Camila."

I'd rather never talk about Camila again, but how busy I've been all week does mean I have no idea how that talk went. Henry's been breathing down my neck for results. I gesture for her to continue.

"I got the name." She grins hungrily. "She doesn't know if it's his real name, but it's an interior one for more than just her. Fyodor."

"Fyodor." I roll it around in my mouth. "I haven't heard that before, but it's distinctive. We should be able to get some traction off it."

She juts her chin out proudly. "That's what I figured. And I've been very careful about using it. I don't want him to spook."

"Smart." I reach across the desk and take her hand. "Now can I ask about school?"

"One more thing." Her smile turns dark. "She's dead."

I blink. Camila, dead? I'd have heard about that.

She taps her phone. "That was Gianna with the news."

"How did it-"

My phone rings. I answer it quickly.

"She's fucking dead!" Henry hollers in my ear. "A goddamn heart attack, like I believe that. How did you do this? Why did you do this, after I told-"

I hang up the call. "I believe you."

She laughs, looking light and powerful and free. I study her for a moment. There's only one reason Gianna would've gotten the news first.

My phone rings again. Not Henry, so I answer.

"I'm sure you've heard," Lucio Mazzi, Ben's father and one of my newest capos, says.

"About the wicked witch? I have." I don't look away from El. "Why are you calling?"

"Because I've got an old enemy in that prison from my days with Thano, and I want to know how Eleni did it," he replies.

"I'll get back to you." I hang up again. "You did this."

She shrugs, and her oversized T-shirt falls off her shoulder, revealing she isn't wearing a bra. The knife-edged hunger around her mouth is intoxicating. The feds were breaking the rules, holding Camila in supermax pretrial. It should have been impossible to get anyone inside, much less to do so and kill someone as subtly as a false heart attack. Shivs are easy. Syringes, less so. It's damned impressive.

"You did it behind my back." I stand, letting an ounce of control bleed into my voice.

Eleni leans back in her chair to hold my gaze. "What if I did?"

"She was useful." I circle around the desk.

El doesn't flinch. "She was dangerous, and you know it."

"How healed are you?"

Her answering smile is a challenge. "As much as I need to be."