Michael grinned deviously. “Technically, it’s Mikhail Savin—my mom calls me Misha. Garin is a short form of my grandfather’s name, Gerasim.”

As if telling me his favorite food or his plans for the weekend, Michael had volunteered a deeply personal secret. I was floored. Never in all my years had anyone opened up to me with something so important, trusting me with such sensitive information.

“My dad is an Italia Mafia boss,” I blurted without any hesitation. My eyes grew wide as I realized what I’d done. There was no taking the words back. All those years of keeping the secret to myself, and I let the bomb drop without a second thought. I was completely dumbfounded.

Michael stared at me, then threw back his head in a fit of laughter.

“You’re laughing? I’m not joking!” I hissed at him, slapping his leg.

“I know, that’s why it’s so funny. I could tell you were different than the other paper doll cutouts here, but I had no idea we were such kindred spirits.”

I couldn’t help but grin at his amusement and shake my head. “So glad I have a partner in the Fucked-Up Family Club—or should I say comrade?”

“Oh! Sofia’s got jokes!” he teased, still smiling broadly. “You can use whatever word you want, but I don’t speak Russian.”

“Guess that makes sense—I don’t speak Italian. I take it your mom is Russian?”

“Yeah, but she was born here. So was my dad.”

“Tell me about him,” I said, growing more somber. “What does it mean that he’s found you?”

Michael shrugged, attempting to look nonchalant, but I could sense his unease. “He was pissed at my mom, but he’s not a terrible guy. He’s not going to hurt her or anything. He’s insisting I spend some weekends with him in the city, so I’m not sure exactly what it means. He was never super involved in my life, and I certainly never had contact with his bratva dealings. Your guess is as good as mine.”

“But you’re going to still live here, though, right?” The thought of him leaving terrified me. Not because he’d kept the bullies at bay, but because he was the only person who saw me—saw the real me.

“I’m not going anywhere, Sof. No worries.” He gazed at me, almost sadly. “Mafia, huh. One obstacle after another,” he muttered to himself.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, just talking to myself.” He smiled, but I could still see that sadness lurking in his eyes. “Your Nico, did he know about your family?” he asked quietly. It was one of only a handful of times he’d ever brought up Nico in the year we’d been friends, and the mention caught me off guard.

“Ah … no. No one knows. In fact, my family doesn’t know that I know.” My gaze dropped to the ground where I studied the dirt on my shoe.

He was silent, so I dared a peek up. Michael’s eyes were bulging round. “You serious? They didn’t tell you? How on earth did you figure it out?”