Page 50 of Mafioso's Muse

A few minutes into the drive, Willow’s phone rang. She fished it from her bag and looked at the screen. It was a private number. She answered. ‘Hello?’

‘Where are you?’

She immediately recognised Vaughn’s voice. The timing was no coincidence. Antonio must have called him. ‘I’m well, Mr Gallo. How are you?’

Getting the point, he tried again. ‘Good morning, Miss Hayes. How are you?’

She hugged herself with her free arm. ‘Well, and yourself?’

‘Couldn’t be better. Where are you?’

She thought about telling him that it was none of his business, but the thought passed quickly. ‘I’m in a taxi.’

‘Aren’t you supposed to be at the studio?’

She watched the buildings slip by for a moment. ‘Was there something you needed?’

‘Yes, I needed to know your location.’

Exhaling, she glanced at the car’s GPS, which told her she was four minutes from the bar. ‘Why don’t you go first and tell me where you are? Titian?’

‘I’m all around the city today.’

It was a clever answer.

‘I ran into Antonio this morning,’ she said before he could ask her again. ‘His face is a mess.’

There was a brief silence before he said, ‘It looks worse than it is.’

She doubted that very much.

‘Willow.’ His tone grew serious. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Oh, I’m all around the city today,’ she replied with a breezy tone.

He exhaled into the phone. ‘Touché.’

She was less than a minute away now. ‘What really happened to him?’

‘Willow…’

She chewed on a fingernail as they swam in silence. ‘Can you at least tell me if you’re okay?’

‘Of course I’m okay,’ he said without hesitation.

The Titian sign came into view. ‘I’m sorry to be rude, but I have to go.’

‘Go where?’

The taxi came to a stop out front of the bar. ‘Goodbye, Mr Gallo.’ She bravely ended the call and, after paying the driver, exited the car.

When she tried to go inside Titian, she found the door locked. She peered through the window and spotted a woman behind the bar. Willow tapped on the glass, and the woman looked in her direction, sighed, then wandered over.

‘We don’t open until twelve,’ she said through a crack in the door.

‘I have an appointment with Mr Gallo. He said he’d be here,’ she lied, surprising herself.

The woman looked down at her cropped T-shirt and tights. ‘Name?’