When The Sun Goes Down - A Midnight Mafia Novel

Chapter Twenty-Seven

               “So my mother is a psychiatrist and my father a lawyer, I’m sure you can guess how peeved they were when their only child decided she wanted to sit around a read all day for a living.” Stacey laughed from one end of the booth. “I have this big crazy dream that I’m going to become an agent though and then I can start getting best sellers published and make all my wealth from what everyone else writes.” She teased and Pietro chuckled.

                “Any publishing company would be foolish to not hire you.”

                I squinted. I could hardly remember Pietro saying more than two words together when we were down under. I had no idea he could be so charming. He certainly had no issues charming the pants off my best friend.

                “So.” Stacey clapped her hands together. “Which one of you are older?” She was clearly trying to engage me. She had been flirting with Pietro and talking with Alessio but I had been sitting frozen to spot and mute. “No wait! Let me guess.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully.

                “I’m taller.” Pietro piped in.

                “Ah yes, but I am much, much more handsome.” Alessio replied back. I had never seen this side of Alessio. The side that made casual conversation, the side that seemed normal. I had seen him angry, spiteful, erotic, but this was just too weird.

                “What does that have to do with anything?” Pietro shot back.

                “Ah! I see you don’t deny it!” Alessio said and pointed to his cousin full of victory. The three of them all laughed.

                Stacey bit her lip. “I’m going to say…Pietro is older.”

                “Why?” Alessio propped his chin up on his palm.

                “Because he looks at you all protecting. Like an older brother would.”

                “But I tease him as though he is a younger brother, no?”

                She considered this for a few moments. “Fine! Alessio is older.” They all laughed again at her back and forth ways.

                “Ah but you see, he is mischievous and deceiving the way a younger child often is to get the older sibling in trouble.” Pietro argued.

                Stacey groaned. “Fine, I give up I don’t know.” And they all laughed again.

                I glanced around the room, tuning out their conversation. We had come to an Italian place, of course. Now the question was, how many of his men did Alessio have here? I quickly ruled out a group of blonde men at one table, ruled out the men that had women seated with them, the older men, and those who were overweight or appeared to be in bad healthy. Scanning the room over this left about twelve possible suit wearing men. Three were seated together and were laughing and clinking wine glasses together. I doubted that Alessio would let his men drink on the job and ruled them out as well. One man sat alone with a newspaper low in front of his face, I could see his eyes from where he held the paper, he was looking at one particular spot on the newspaper, his eyes didn’t move as they would have if he were reading. There was one definite. Two other men ate alone and I decided they were probably Alessio’s men as well. That made three. A group of three all squeezed into one side of the booth facing us but with their attention focused on their phone. That was six. Just to be safe I decided to just assume the other table of three who were in a heated discussion and kept motioning towards the menu were with Alessio as well. That would make nine.