The book has been edited as of March 2022. Rereading the series in its entirety is recommended.
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M
Devin, New Jersey.
Early August.
"Mina?" I heard Loretta cry out. I stood up straight, letting out a quiet sigh as I carried the empty plates to the back. "Mina! I know you heard me, answer me when I'm calling you!" Her voice rang out once more.
"Yes Loretta?!" I groaned.
I set the plates into the sink, before I sucked my teeth in annoyance. I loved Loretta with all my heart, but she had a way of getting underneath my skin.
"I know you didn't just kiss your teeth at me bambina!" She warned, making me wince as her voice grew higher in pitch.
"I would never Lolo." I replied innocently, batting my eyelashes as she rounded the arched corner before entering the kitchen.
"Mhm.." her narrow brown eyes eyed me disapprovingly, like a mother to her child.
And she was exactly that.
Loretta Carbone was like a mother to me.
After I'd moved to the small, yet predominantly Italian town of Devin, she had welcomed me with open arms. At her young age of sixty-three, she took me under her wing like I was her third daughter. All of her other children had grown up and were married with their own families to take care of, so the idea of having me as another one of her children was one she took without a second thought.
"I need you to close up cara, and quickly." she sighed tiredly, falling back into her favorite rocking chair.
How it creaked with age.
"Already?" I questioned. My eyes drifted towards the old grandfather clock positioned in the corner of the kitchen. The time read 8:30pm, however the clock was five minutes behind according to my watch.
"Unless you would like to stay longer? I recall you have business elsewhere, cara mia." She stated with a knowing look. I quickly shook my head, turning around to go collect the remaining plates from the empty tables. (My dear)
My eyes drifted to the corner of the room, spotting Damien Moretti who was seated with his men. My gaze didn't linger, knowing it was best to focus on something other than the men who donned black, seated only a few steps away.
Mobsters.
It couldn't be helped though as I soon found my eyes darting towards him once more.
Was stealing a glance at this notorious man worth it?
I never would've thought a man so dangerous and frightening could appear to be so—charming, for better words.
His black attire consisting of a suited jacket and matching dress pants paired with a black turtleneck, clung to his fit body as he sat upright in the rather small chair.
