Darkest Sins (Perfectly Imperfect #9)

“What?!” I shriek. “That’s amazing!”

My sister just shrugs. “Yeah. I told her I’m going to think about it.”

“You’ll think about it?” I reach across the table and grab her hand. “What’s there to think about?”

“It’s not the same as making dresses for you and our friends, Nera.”

“You bet it’s not. You’re going to say yes, design a magnificent gown for her, and everyone is going to go crazy over it. Every single woman in the Family will want to have one, too.”

Salvo has been friends with Massimo and Elmo since childhood. His family is one of the most long-standing members of the Boston Cosa Nostra. A few years ago, he took over the capo position from his father and has been handling the negotiations for various transactions with our partners ever since. If his mother turns up at a party wearing a dress designed by my little sister, there’ll be a lineup of women in front of our house the following day.

“Yeah. Dad’s going to love that,” she says with a sour smile. “Nuncio Veronese’s daughter working as a seamstress for women below her social standing.”

“But . . .”

“No buts. I’m going to tell her I’m busy with school assignments and can’t do it.”

My shoulders sag. “You said your biggest dream is to have your own fashion label one day.”

“A dream. That’s all it is.” She stands up and starts gathering the dirty plates, effectively shutting down the discussion on this subject. “How are your courses going? You skipped lunch on Sunday.”

“The courses are fine. And I’ve been putting in more hours at the vet clinic, so I couldn’t make it.”

“You haven’t seen that man again, have you?”

I flinch, and a piece of pizza crust gets lodged in my throat. “Man?” I cough. “What man?”

Zara’s hand stills halfway to the empty pizza box. Her eyes snap to mine, and it feels like her pointed gaze is drilling holes into my skull. “Nera!”

I cringe. Zara could always see right through my bluffs. Even though she’s two years younger, sometimes she’s more like an older sister.

“Maybe?” I offer her a sheepish smile. “Listen, it’s not what you think. He just dropped by the clinic, needing help.”

“Help? What kind of help?”

“He needed a few stitches.”

“He had Leticia patch him up?” She shakes her head. “She’s a vet, for God’s sake.”

I slide a napkin into my hands and start folding it. “Um . . . It wasn’t Leticia. I did it.”

“You?”

“It was messy, but he didn’t mind. And I also ran into him when I went out with Dania and the girls. He . . . he drove me home.”

“You got into a car with a man you don’t know? What’s wrong with you? He could have—”

“He did nothing,” I interrupt her. “I asked him to drop me off. He drove me home, and then he left. That’s all.”

Well, it’s not exactly the whole truth. There’s the door. And the “present” he left for me.

“Why are you grinning? This is serious, Nera! Who is he? Do you even know the guy’s name?”

“I don’t know his name. Actually, I don’t know much about him.” I glance at the new gray pots I arranged beside the balconydoors. “He brought me celeriac.” Spotting the blank expression on Zara’s face, I clarify, “Celery root. And some parsnips.”

“What?”

“I think he thought it was parsley.”