Reclaiming the Harbor, Rewriting My Fate

By midday, I had an appointment to view a safe house with a broker who asked no questions.

I'd just stepped into the private elevator of the social club when I ran into Lorenzo and Gianna.

Gianna's hair was loose around her shoulders, and Lorenzo was tying it back into a ponytail for her with the patience of a man who answered to no one.

The second she saw me, Gianna planted her hands on her hips, pouted, and started complaining to me:

"Adriana, you're just in time. Look at Lorenzo, would you.

He pulls my hair all day long, like some little boy who never grew up. He's so annoying."

Before I could answer, Lorenzo pinched the tip of Gianna's nose and teased back,

"Little one, your nose grows when you tell lies."

Once he'd made Gianna blush, the Don finally graced me with a glance. "Adriana, it's not often we run into each other. Come eat with us."

Same building, separate operations, for five years.

In all that time, Lorenzo had never once asked me to break bread with him.

And every single day, Gianna sent word to the ranks about every meal Lorenzo took with her.

The memory made me smile a little. "You two go ahead. I've got something to do."

He hadn't expected me to refuse. His face had just darkened when the elevator gave a hard jolt and dropped into darkness.

I switched on my phone light and saw Lorenzo with his arm around Gianna, soothing her in a low voice.

Soon enough the elevator started moving again.

When we reached the ground floor, Lorenzo offered to have his man drive me.

Before I could say anything, Gianna suddenly fainted.

At that, the Don shoved past me without a second thought, hauled Gianna onto his back, and rushed off to find a doctor.

I quietly picked up my phone with its shattered screen, signaled a cab off the street, and went to look at the safe house.

That evening, Lorenzo personally delivered a box of dessert to my desk.

Half an hour earlier, I'd seen Gianna's new post:

Loving someone is like raising flowers. Baby can't finish it all, just can't finish it

The photo was a whole table of French pastries.

I thanked him and didn't open the box.

A flicker of confusion crossed Lorenzo's face. "Adriana, why are you being so formal with me?"

I didn't answer him directly. I only said, "If there's nothing else, I need to go run some papers."

By the time I came back from drafting my letter stepping back from Family obligation, Lorenzo was already gone.

He'd left a note.

It told me to come up and find him once I'd finished.

I peeled off the note and threw it out along with the dessert.

Then I walked into the underboss's quarters and stepped back from my obligations to the Family.

He tried for a long time to talk me out of it, the way men in this life do when they sense the ground shifting beneath them. But when he saw my mind was made up, he finally accepted the letter.

By the code, I could leave once I'd worked out the rest of the week.

At ten that night, Lorenzo called while I was out at a dinner with the others from the club.

A male associate picked up the phone by mistake.

When it was passed to me, Lorenzo's voice was frighteningly cold. "Adriana, where are you, this late at night?"

"Out," I told him.

"Send me your location. I'm coming to get you."

And with that, the Don hung up.

I sent the location and stayed until the place closed.

Lorenzo never came.

I opened Gianna's feed and, sure enough, saw the post about her being sick and on an IV drip.

I took a cab home alone, washed up, and went to bed.

Sometime after three in the morning, a travel-worn Lorenzo shook me awake, hard.

He said to me coldly, "Adriana, I'm hungry. Make me a bowl of soup dumplings."

He didn't like shepherd's purse, and he liked soup dumplings even less.

I knew. The one who wanted them was Gianna.

I started to pull his hand off my arm, but my fingers brushed the scar on the back of his hand.

Years ago, when the old hall went up in flames at a sit-down gone wrong, I'd probably be a corpse now if it hadn't been for Lorenzo.

A bowl of soup dumplings in exchange for saving my life. If anything, I was the one coming out ahead.

When he saw me change my clothes without a word and get ready to go out, Lorenzo caught my arm.

There was an unusual unease in his voice. "Actually, maybe just do it after sunrise. It's not like—"

I cut him off and asked quietly, "Besides the dumplings, is there anything else she wants to eat?"

He was silent for a moment, then let go of my arm.

He said, "No."