Chapter 45

Charlie's Pov.

The old man shuffled closer, his shadow stretching long across the plush carpet. "My boy," he began, his voice a low rumble, "you don't call, you don't write. Sometimes I wonder if you hate me, or if you're just following orders a little too damn well."

Roberto Tucci. My father. A prominent figure in the Italian Mafia, with a presence that could curdle milk and a gaze that could pierce steel. Ever since my mama passed, a chasm had opened between us, a void no amount of forced family dinners could fill.

"It's the job, Dad," I muttered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth. "But hey, if seeing more of me is what you crave, maybe we can arrange something."

His icy blue eyes, the same shade as the California winter sky, locked onto mine. They held a depth of emotion I couldn't decipher. "So I hear you're still tangled up with the redhead. The actress wannabe? Seriously, Charlie, what are you thinking?"

"Dad, I love her," I said, the word sitting heavy in the sterile air. "We're doing just fine. And that's all that matters, not what she chooses to do with her life."

Impatience gnawed at the edges of my control. "Why'd you call, Dad? You said it was important."

He chuckled, a dry, humorless sound. "You're just like your mother," he said, shaking his head. "Always straight to the point. Can't a man make small talk with his son?"

"I appreciate the effort," I countered, forcing a smile. "But you wouldn't have dragged me all the way downtown for a chat about the weather. Spill it, Dad. What's the real reason?"

His smile widened, but it never reached his eyes. "See, that's the spirit. Now, about this case you're working on..."

A knot of dread tightened in my gut. "The Dupont case?"

"Bingo," he said, snapping his fingers. "We need you to… well, let's just say make it disappear. No loose ends, Charlie. You understand."

The truth slammed into me like a freight train. The Mafia. They were behind Rupert's death.

"Why was he killed?" I forced the question out, my voice hoarse.

He shrugged, reaching for a crystal decanter on the table. Amber liquid splashed into a waiting glass as he spoke. "Why do you think, son? Rupert knew too much. Especially about that little trafficking operation we've got going, you know we used his yacht for most of it. We got wind that he was planning to sing like a canary to get a lighter sentence. Couldn't have that, now could we?"

He downed the scotch in one gulp, the glass clinking sharply on the table. The finality of his words hung heavy in the air.

"This won't be easy, Dad. This is a high-profile case, all eyes are on it. And my new partner will be almost impossible to influence," I said, the weight of the situation settling on my shoulders.

"High-profile case, all eyes on it, you say?" he mused, steepling his fingers. "Sounds like your new partner might need some… convincing or taking care of."

"No," I said, the word a sharp exhale. "We can't go down that road again. Not after what happened to Joel. If something like that happens again, they might start investigating me for murder. We don't want that," I said.

His gaze turned flinty. "Then get creative, Charlie. You're good at this game. Find a way to bury the truth. That's an order."

**************

Donna's Pov.

The Los Angeles twilight cast long shadows as Lorena and I stepped out of the hotel lobby. Just then, a jolt of memory hit me that I had a suite at the hotel. My mother had informed me I could use it for as long as she and my brother were in Los Angeles.

"Hold on," I said, slapping my forehead. "Mom hooked me up with a whole suite here. Come on, let me show you."

Lorena's eyes lit up. "Wow! That is convenient. I didn't sleep last night. Maybe after showing me the suite, you'll let me crash there?"

"Of course you can sleep there," I smiled, leading her towards the elevators.

We squeezed into the elevator, heading for the eleventh floor. "Speaking of needing things," I began casually, "isn't Delphine picking you up today?"

She sighed. "Actually, no. We're having some… minor creative differences. We just need a little break from each other."

My curiosity piqued. "Creative differences, huh?" I pressed. "Girl, spill. Are you and Delphine… lovers?"

Lorena burst out laughing. "No way! We're just two artistic souls swimming in the same pond, pushing each other to be better. That's all… for now."

The cryptic ending of her statement left me wanting more, but I decided not to pry. The elevator doors pinged open, and we stepped out onto the plush hallway.

The suite was everything you'd expect from a swanky hotel – a luxurious living area, a spacious bedroom, and a bathroom that looked like a spa. After a relaxing soak in the tub, we donned our nightgowns and ordered room service. The room service had come and gone and we were just digging into our food when a knock on the door made me jump.

"Mom?" I asked hesitantly, swinging the door open.

"Sorry to disturb you, honey. I just don't want to be alone tonight. Can I stay here with you?" She asked.

"Okay, Mom. But just know Lorena is here with me tonight."

My mother smiled and called out, "Lorena, where are you?" She walked past me into the suite.

Lorena, who was in the sitting room, responded, "I'm right here, Mrs. P.”

My jaw dropped as I watched my usually reserved mother practically skip into the room, engulfing Lorena in a hug. It was something she hadn't done with me for quite a while, here she was doing it with my best friend – genuine warmth radiating from my Mom.

"Napa hasn't been the same since you left, honey," Mom gushed, her eyes twinkling. "When are you gracing us with your presence again?"

Lorena chuckled. "It's a long story, Mrs. P., but following this dream of mine is all I can think about right now. I promise a visit soon, though, my mother is literally begging me to."

As they chatted animatedly, a wave of nausea washed over me. I excused myself and bolted for the bathroom, a sudden aversion to the fish sticks Lorena was devouring hitting me like a ton of bricks.

After a few dry heaves and a quick splash of cold water on my face, I rejoined them on the couch. My mother looked at me with concern, then beamed at me and dropped a bombshell.

. "So, Donna,” she chirped, “how long have you been pregnant?