CHAPTER 19.3

C H A P T E R - N I N E T E E N

I snapped the phone closed, gazed at it, and snarled, "Shit! ”

It rang again in my hand.

I instantly turned it open and placed it to my ear.

"It's not pleasant to hang up on -"

Falcone cut me off with "Babe."

“Falcone? ”

I was taken aback. I assumed he was cut off.

"Please explain why you're calling Isabelle."

I sat stunned, then realized he knew everything about me, even monitoring my phone conversations

"Falcone"

"You've never met her."

"Falcone"

"If you don't know someone, you don't talk to them."

"Falcone"

"You converse to her, and someone is listening in on her conversation; they hear you, find you, or make conclusions."

Okay, another reason Falcone might be irritating, and that was when he was correct.

"I got a wild hair when I saw her name on my contact list," I acknowledged.

"No, you saw her name on your contact list, and that reminded you that you were worried about your sister, so you called her," Falcone explained.

"I guess it's kind of the same thing.

"Babe," he sighed.

"I thought you were busy," I said, changing the subject.

"I was but base got the ping on your phone, Mo phoned Jorge, Jorge is behind me and not busy like me." He told me you're calling your fucking sister, and I became uncomfortable."

"Oh," I grumbled.

"Gia, sweetie, please do me a favor. Believe in me enough to help your sister. And trust me enough to handle the emotional repercussions if we discover there's nothing I can do for your sister. Yeah? ”

I moved my gaze from my lap to his books, CDs, and lair.

"Gia, are you there?" Falcone said.

He became unoccupied. For me.

He asked me to put my emotional baggage on him.

I locked my gaze on his den. It still didn't provide me anything.

Even yet, I knew Enrico was mistaken.

"I'm here," I gently stated, "and I'll do you that favor."

"Thank you, Sweet Pea," he said gently.

"Are you okay with my girlfriends coming over later?" I inquired.

"Sure, darling." Ramona has decided she wants to be my girlfriend," I said.

"Not surprising," he said.

“Do you need to get reoccupied? I questioned, even though he didn't seem anxious or distracted, but I figured if he was forwarding his calls, it was because he was in the middle of something important that demanded his whole attention.

He moved his attention to me.

Shit.

"Yeah," he said.

"All right, I'll let you go."

"Come back later, sweetie."

"Falcone, later."

There is no sound.

I closed my phone and stared unfocusedly into his lair.

Then I flicked open my phone again and dialed information to obtain the number for my insurance agent, since I needed to report my hit-and-run.