“Be careful, Dominic. Don’t let on that you know. Although bringing Mateo’s sister may have clued him in. Why did you do that? Not really your smartest move.”

“No. But I wasn’t going to leave her alone either. Victor Scava wants her. He’s apparently already bought her. The auction is just a formality. A humbling.”

Salvatore flinched, his mouth curling in distaste.

“She stays by my side,” I added.

“If I didn’t know any better—”

“She has my protection, that’s all.”

“What’s going on with the auction?”

I grinned. “I’m guessing phones will start lighting up tomorrow around the time of the church service.”

“You called it in?”

I nodded.

“Anyone know where the information came from?”

“No.” I paused, and we both turned to watch our uncle. “Roman’s involvement will be confirmed tomorrow.”

“Let’s go upstairs. I know Lucia doesn’t want to be alone.” He paused. “Memories of the last time,” he said, his gaze sliding toward the dining-room.

I recalled and didn’t miss the note of shame in my brother’s words, in his face, or in his behavior.

“I just need to get our bags,” I said.

“I’ll help you.”

Salvatore and I carried the two overnight bags upstairs and parted ways at my door. I watched Salvatore disappear down the hallway and into his room. After a brief knock, I opened my old bedroom door to find Gia standing by the window, biting her fingernail.

“Lots of people coming,” she said.

“It’ll just be family tonight. You don’t need to look for Scava.”

She picked up the tin of cookies that I assumed Lucia had given her.

“Here. These are for you. And there’s a note.”

I took the envelope and the tin out of her hand and sat on the edge of the bed, just looking down at the things on my lap. I touched the lid, tracing the brightly-colored pattern there. Then I opened it to find a pile of chocolate-chip cookies. I offered Gia one. She shook her head and watched me, one hand at her neck, her fingers rubbing her chin. I chose a cookie and bit into it. My throat closed up, seven years’ worth of emotion I’d kept bottled up coming up now, threatening to choke me.

It took all I had to swallow the bite before I set the rest of the cookie back in the tin, not tasting a thing.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Gia said, disappearing into the bathroom.

I set the tin aside and took the letter out of the envelope. Her handwriting was pretty, very different to that of the small child who’d written in huge block letters way back when. Now, she wrote in a neat script.

Dear Uncle Dominic,