45

And finally, at the other end of the table, is my uncle Franco. He sits there, overseeing my family, like he owns the place. After our father died when I was fourteen, which was six years ago, Franco moved in and took over as head of the business my father left behind. I know the business is shady. I’ve heard the words “mob boss” and “Mafia” thrown around enough times to understand, but I don’t ask too many questions. It’s not really proper for the women in my life to ask questions about such things.

Gemma sits down next to her husband, Viktor, who’s honestly one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen. I always find myself tongue-tied around him.

Viktor shoots me a grin. “Hey, Franny. How’s it going?”

“Uh, good. I just got back,” I manage to say. See? Tongue- tied. And it’s not because I have a crush on Viktor. I don’t. It’s more that Viktor is one of the only people to actually acknowledge me when I’m in a room, and it always startles me. I’m dragged out of my safe hiding place of b
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