Chapter 7: Back Seat

Raffaela's POV

On the fifth day Luca put me in the back of the Escalade and told me we were going to the city for a dress.

"I have a dress," I said.

"You have your mother's black one, and you've worn it twice."

"It's a good dress."

He raised an eyebrow.

"It's a good dress for a wedding. The Return Lunch is a different occasion."

"What's the Return Lunch?"

He did not smile.

"Your family hosts mine within fourteen days of a wedding. It's your father's table, and it's where he hands over my sister."

He settled beside me.

"Rosalba has made an appointment, and if you don't go, she'll come."

I went.

Silvio drove.

The glass partition rose between the front seat and the back with a soft electric hum, and the street noise dropped away.

The leather was warm and the windows were tinted nearly black.

It was a grey morning on the Long Island Expressway, and the traffic moved in a long, slow line.

Luca's phone rang before we reached Queens.

He glanced at it.

"I have to take this. A capo, about the trucks."

I nodded toward it.

"Take it."

"It will take ten minutes."

"Take it," I said, and I slid off the seat onto the floor.

He looked down at me.

The Escalade had room.

I knelt between his knees on the thick carpet, with my back against the opposite seat, and put my hands on his belt.

"Raffaela."

"You said I get to tell you what I want."

He let his head fall back against the seat.

"I did."

"I want to do this while you talk."

His eyes went very dark.

The phone rang a third time.

"If you make a sound," he said slowly, "I'll stop you."

"Then I'll be quiet."

"Good."

He answered the call.

"Vannelli."

I undid his belt.

The buckle was heavy and cold.

I unfastened the button, drew down the zipper, and found him already hard beneath the cloth.

He kept his voice level as I took him out.

"No, not Tuesday," he said into the phone. "Thursday. The yard is closed Tuesday."

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