I expected the next day to wake up alone, like I had the morning after the first time Tomasso and I had sex. Instead, I woke up at about noon, after the two of us had made love twice more, warm and content in his arms. “Good morning."

"Good afternoon," Tomasso chuckled, looking at the clock next to my bed. "Even for a night shift Mafia man, that's pushing it. I keep this up, and they're going to think I'm Batman."

"After last night, more like the Man of Steel," I joked, wiggling my hips against his cock. "How'd you pull that off three times?"

“I had a lot built up, it seems."

I laughed and sighed. "Can't we just stay in bed all day?"

He shook his head regretfully and kissed the nape of my neck, earning a soft sigh from me. "As tempting as that is, no. I have to talk with my father and make sure things are clear with Pietro after last night, and besides, this bed is a little small. How about we try my bed tonight?”

“I don’t know. I think I like being snuggled up against you.”

He kissed the back of my neck again, then gave me a squeeze. "Come on. Let's get some food. Can you help me with my brace?"

I rolled out of bed and swung my feet to the floor. I found Tomasso's leg brace, underwear and track pants and handed them to him, watching in slight regret as he put them on. "I was hoping to do that."

"Well, tonight in my room, you can take them off me. How’s that?”

I grinned and walked over to my temporary chest of drawers and took out my sexiest set of lingerie that I’d brought with me. With a bit of show, I put them on for him, watching as he swallowed lightly and a bulge began to form in his pants again. Groaning, he sat up, grabbing his brace and tearing his eyes off me. "You're a witch, that's all there is to it," he grumbled. "I can't take my eyes off you without doing something painful."

"It's magic, for sure. But I'd say the enchantment is mutual," I replied as Tomasso tightened the straps. "Because you have put thoughts in my head that I've never had before."

Tomasso stopped and looked up, his eyes full of pain. "Like you said last night, maybe it’s safer if we don’t give words to those thoughts. Safer for both of us."

I gulped and nodded, a cold dose of reality crashing in on our fantasy. I nodded and went back to my drawers, dressing quietly while he found his clean t-shirt. We left the disguise he'd worn the night before on the floor to be disposed of later, unneeded any longer. I found his crutches and picked them up, bringing them to him. He looked at me with pain in his eyes as he took them from me.

I smiled at him and shook my head. "Just promise me, for the time until I leave—no regrets? I want to have a happy memory of my time in Seattle. It’ll give me a reason to try to come back."

Tomasso smiled and got to his feet, setting his crutches aside to pull me close and kiss me. "That I promise. Now, let's go deal with the fallout from last night."

We left my room, finding Margaret working on a laptop out by the pool. "Good afternoon, you two," she greeted with a smirk. "Sleep well?"

"Best I've had in my entire life," I said honestly, chuckling when Tomasso blushed. "And you?"

“I’ve had better,” Margaret replied, laughing quietly as she knew exactly what we were talking about. "Well, your timing is perfect. I just got off the phone with Carlo, and he'd like to talk with you both when he gets home. After last night, he’s cutting his business trip short and coming home, so he's flying into King County Airport in a few hours. Chartered flight."

"Still not getting that Dreamliner flight he told me he wanted," I commented as I sat down. "Although a chartered flight is also a luxury. I hope he isn't put out by it."

"Oh no, Carlo does that about half the time anyway, and almost all the time when he flies internationally," Margaret said. "As you know, it sometimes helps to not have to file enormous amounts of paperwork with the FAA about destinations—things like that."

I nodded in agreement as Tomasso reappeared with two Tupperware containers in a bag, one of which he set in front of me. "Here, it was what was still hot on the stove. When is Dad getting back?"

"He said his plane is scheduled to arrive at four, so you two have a few hours to make sure you've got all your information lined up," Margaret said. "I don't think he's angry, but you never can tell with him. After all, Pietro did just shoot his own son, then there's the diner staff to shut up and some other stuff to deal with. How about you two walk me through your thought processes in all of this?"

Tomasso did, and Margaret nodded, asking few questions. "Why'd you go to Daniel and not Carlo or me?" she asked at one point, when that came into the conversation. "Didn't trust us?"

"I didn't know who I could trust," Tomasso said simply. "Daniel’s separated from this situation. He's also one of the best I know at quickly hacking out information, and I knew he could get me what I wanted."

Margaret nodded. "Okay. I should be hurt, but I'm not. You acted the way you should have. I'm impressed you thought to bring in Daniel. He's the perfect person to bring in."

We finished our story, with me adding in a few details until the point when we left the diner the night before. “Well, I can't find any fault in what you did. You were caught in a Catch-22, and you did what you felt was right. Now, if you two don't mind, I have some work that I need to finish up before Carlo gets back. Tomasso, if you have a chance, check in with Pietro before you get ready to go to the airport. He did just shoot his son, regardless of what his words were."

* * *

We found Mr. Marconi at Bertoli Pizza's offices, cleaning out his son's desk. He looked older, like a man nearing sixty instead of the well-composed early fifties that I'd seen earlier. "Pietro, I hope I'm not interrupting."

He looked up, his face grave, and shook his head. "No, not at all. What can I do for you, Mr. Bertoli, Miss Mendosa?"

So we were still with the formal titling. Like Tomasso, I detested it with someone who I'd formed a closer relationship with, but I understood it at least. Most of my father's men called me Señorita Mendosa—I tolerated it.

Tomasso rested his butt on the edge of the desk, looking down at him. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. And how cleanup and everything else went this morning."

"The late night diners were a bit put off by the place being closed, but the staff were happy enough with their little bonus, and they know that the same could come to them if they open their mouths," Pietro replied. “There’s little else to worry about. I retrieved the shell from my pistol. There's no evidence of anything left at the diner. They reopened by four thirty this morning to catch the early work crowd."

Tomasso nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "And Jake?"

"He went home to say goodbye to his mother and get a quick bandage," Pietro said. "When I checked his apartment this morning, nobody was home and a lot of his things were gone. I checked with some of the doctors and clinics that we use, but there was no report. The word's out, though—he's on the DOA list."

Tomasso swallowed and looked up, controlling his emotions while I rubbed my chin. "Pietro," I said after a moment of silence. "What about you?"

“I’ll do my duty as I’ve always done,” he said softly, going back to cleaning out the desk. "After that . . . maybe I'll talk with the Don. It's been years since I took a decent vacation."

Tomasso looked back at the older man and searched for the words. “Can I ask you to do something as well, then?"

"Maybe, Mr. Bertoli. If I can."

Tomasso nodded, then propped his hands on the edge of the desk. "I'm not ready yet. I still need your guidance, your teaching. Even if you do want to step back, take a vacation, whatever . . . I'd still like the privilege of working with you."

Pietro nodded, thinking. "I can't give you an answer right now, Mr. Bertoli. It wouldn't be fair to do so. But thank you. I’ll think about it."

We left, and in the car back to the mansion, I looked at Tomasso. "Why’d you ask him to stay on?"

"I was being honest," Tomasso said simply, looking out the window and speaking softly. I knew he was struggling to control his emotions, and I knew also how much it all had affected him. "I need his wisdom and guidance. He's never done anything wrong, and I wouldn't have my family lose such a man if it could be helped."

We drove back to the mansion, where Margaret was waiting for us. "Come on. Carlo's expected to touch down in less than an hour," she said. "I'm driving."

It was nice to once again be a passenger in a car, especially in one as luxurious as Margaret's Maserati. We went to the charter terminal, where we could actually go onto the taxiway as the small Learjet pulled up. The ground crew opened the door and Carlo Bertoli got out, looking confident and powerful in his suit with sunglasses over his eyes. He looked like a man who was lord of all he surveyed, and I guess in quite a few ways, he was. Seeing us, he waved casually while the three of us made our way to the foot of the stairs.

"It's good to see you," Carlo said, his voice not as warm as his words. He was reserved. After all, there was a situation that had to be dealt with, but he was glad to see his family again. His smile to me was only polite, though, and I felt a small chill travel down my spine as I felt a bit of fear. I knew what Margaret had told me that afternoon, but to see Carlo's somewhat predatory glance, I knew I was still in danger. It also reassured me that Carlo Bertoli, despite his friendly demeanor with his family and warmth when he was in a good mood, was still the Godfather of the Seattle area.

In the car, I sat in the back next to Carlo while Margaret drove and Tomasso sat next to her. Carlo broached the subject first, only moments after the car had started up. “Before I say anything, let me hear the recording."

I handed my phone up, and Tomasso cued up the conversation, which was remarkably short when listening to it again. I had to blush at some of my flirtatious comments, but I shivered again in fear and nervousness when I confronted Jake in the audio.

When the final words came out and the file ended, Carlo sat quietly, considering. He looked over at me, then at his son. "Why didn’t you confront Jake by yourself, Tomasso?"

"I'm on one leg. If he tried something, I probably wouldn’t have fared too well," Tomasso answered, keeping his voice calm and controlled. "I needed a way to put my enemy off guard. Besides, Luisa was the target and deserved to be involved."

Carlo nodded, then sighed. "You did the right thing. There is a time to be up front, and there is a time to be smart. You didn't let your ego get in the way. All right, let's head home. We can discuss the fallout from this later. Miss Mendosa, I feel I should apologize. You were supposed to be my guest, and it seems someone in my household put you in danger.”

I shook my head, knowing it was time to be gracious and understanding. It wasn't that hard, really—I didn't have any hurt feelings, and in fact, it had been sort of fun working with Tomasso. "Don Bertoli, your family has treated me with respect, and regardless of what my father says about this, you have my friendship."

"Good. Then let's go talk with your father. Maybe some good can be salvaged from all of this."