Chapter 10 · Dinner With Wolves

The dining room smells like rosemary and blood money.

I'm sitting next to Locke at a table long enough to seat twelve, but there's only six of us. Vito's across from me, smiling like he knows something I don't. Two older men in expensive suits flank him—underbosses, probably. Their names went in one ear and out the other when Locke introduced them an hour ago.

The sixth chair belongs to a woman in her fifties with silver hair pulled so tight her face looks like it might crack. She hasn't said a word since we sat down.

Locke's hand rests on my thigh under the table. Not moving. Just there. A reminder that I'm supposed to be his.

"So," Vito says, cutting into his steak with surgical precision. "How'd you two meet?"

I knew this was coming. Practiced the answer in the car on the way over. But my mouth goes dry anyway.

Locke answers before I can. "Grocery store. She was buying terrible wine."

"I was not," I say automatically. Then realize I just took the bait. Played along like we actually have history.

Vito grins. "Cute. Real cute." He chews slowly, eyes on me the whole time.