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He Took His Childhood Friend Away, So I Came Back a Mafia Heiress novel · Chapter 12 of 24

Chapter 12: Her Terms

He was at the port gate at six the next morning, with his hands in his pockets and nothing on his shoulders.

The guard looked at me through the glass.

"Let him in," I said. "He's got ten minutes."

Rocco followed me across the yard to the office and stood in the doorway of my father's room.

I had hung his coat on the back of the chair.

He saw it and said nothing.

"Here are my terms," I said, and I didn't sit.

"Anything."

"Don't say that. You don't know what they are."

"I'll take them anyway."

"One. You don't touch me. Not my hand, not my arm. Nothing."

His jaw tightened.

"Two. The next time your family sits down to eat, you stand up in front of all of them and tell them what you did that night, and what you knew. Then you tell them what your uncle has been doing with my father's money."

"They'll hear it from me."

"You'll say it in front of Nunzio."

"I'll say it to his face."

"That's the price. If you can't pay it, don't come back to this gate."

He nodded slowly.

Then he looked at my left hand, where the scar was.

"Can I ask one thing?"

"You can ask."

"Did you want me to come?"

I should have said no.

I walked across the room instead, and took his right hand, and turned the cuff back.

The ridged scar ran white up the inside of his forearm.

I laid two fingers flat against it.

His whole arm went rigid, and his breath stopped.

I felt his pulse hit my fingertips, hard and fast.

"That doesn't count," I said, and let go. "I was checking the scar."

"I know."

"Don't read anything into it."

"Gemma." His voice cracked on my name. "I'm reading nothing. I'm barely standing."

I turned my back on him so he wouldn't see my face.

"Go."

He went.

The following Sunday I sat at my father's table on Ferry Street with the captains, eating, and a Santoro driver came to the door at seven and told me that the family was at dinner and that Mr. Rocco had asked for me to come.

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