Angel's Mafia (gxg) ✓

XLI | Poisoned Kiss

THERE IS A WHITE-CLOTHED TABLE WAITING ON THE ROOFTOP. LIT BY candles, with two gleaming plates and a bundle of roses, it overlooks the city lights. It looks like one of Vincent Van Gogh's paintings, and I feel like I'm wading through a dream as I walk towards it.

"Angel, this . . ." Romantic. Beautiful. Incredible.

She gives me smile that is almost nervous, and my heart melts. "I love it," I finally say, kissing her cheek.

She pulls out a chair for me and brushes away the rose petals from the seat. Lifting the fabric of my black gown, I sit down and wait for her to reveal the menu.

There is a silver tray in the middle, and Angel uncovers. Roast beef, lamb, pasta and grilled vegetables.

"I figured you might be sick of eating hotel food," she says with a wry grin. After the last two weeks on the run, not being able to order anything more than room service and granola bars, this is heaven.

"I can't believe you set this up." The setting is so romantic, with the flickering candles and the gleaming red petals. We could be in a movie now, at the climax of an epic love story.

For a moment, she looks guilty, but why? She hasn't done anything wrong.

Dominic's words come back to me. She's going to betray you. Run, run now, and don't look back.

I shove thoughts away and take a bite of roast beef. Across the table, Angel's face is lit with candlelight. Her powerful, attractive features remind me of the Grecian era of sculpture, and the urge to paint her is so compelling I almost stand up right then.

Instead, I swallow. A pressing question is on mind, and I know I need to ask.

"Angel," I say tentatively. She looks up, her hazel eyes awash in amber. "The treasure, the wealth, the Jewels . . . I know it's a lot of money, and I know you could do a lot of things with it, but why do you need it?"

And I know she must need it. No one who doesn't need money like that will go chasing it across the world. But why?

Icy cold drips down her face like a sheet, and I tense, worried she's going to be furious, that she'll scowl at me and tell me I don't need to know . . . but then her expression loosens. As though she is making a conscious effort to be open.

"After the Genoveses slaughtered my family," she says, her eyes rimmed in shadow, "they stole all we had. Everything. Which means someone in the Falcone group must have snitched, in order for them to know where our money was. So they emptied the treasury, and all that's left now is what's in the vault. What I've been using for us to get around the world."

"You don't have to tell me if it's too hard," I say, but she waves me off.

"No, I . . . I should have told you sooner." Her face is grim. "There's nothing left. We're almost out of money, and no one knows, no one besides me . . . and Dominic. I've tried to keep it that way, because I don't want to lose power and the respect I've earned in the past two years. So this chase for the Jewels has been mostly kept a secret from the other Mafia families, except for the Genoveses, who managed to find us."

This when I remember the phone number that I left in the heel of my shoe. Why would a Genovese just give me his number? But I don't bring that up―it's too late now. Even though I memorized the number, I'm sure I could never use it.