Betty raises a judgy brow. “I’m just sayin’, you didn’t say that when homeboy kidnapped you and chased you around a maze while trying to shove a needle in your arm while fucking you now, did you?”

“Betty!” I snap at her, moving back to my chair. “I didn’t tell you that shit so you could throw it back in my face years later.”

Her smile softens and she reaches over and pats the top of my hand. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Tell me more.” Betty is truly the best friend that I could ever ask for. Her mom and dad moving from Atlanta when she was four years old was the greatest gift to me, and to this day, I still go around there for homecooked meals.

“I don’t know what else to say other than it just feels like he is, but it’s not something small. It’s big.”

“You think it’s about your ma?” Betty asks softly, scooping her braids into a low pony.

“No.” I shake my head. “Wicked is a killer, but I know he wouldn’t do that to Wolf.”

“True.” Betty flicks her hair over her shoulder. “Then maybe ask him?”

I roll my eyes. “Sure. Betty, the only time you ask someone like Wicked a question, is when you want to be lied to.” I stare off into the distance. “We’ll find out.”

The elevator doors slide open and Papa enters, unbuttoning his jacket. “Principessa.”

“Hi!” I stand from my chair, flinging my arms around Papa’s neck. The wrinkle lines are deeper around his eyes, and his beard has grown thick. Dare I say he’s stressed. “Is everything okay?”

He takes the chair at the table, casting a short glance up at Tony behind me. “Yes. Betty, can you give us a second?” I don’t bother telling Papa that Betty knows everything about what we do. It’ll just get me in trouble.

Once Betty is out and upstairs, Papa loosens the tie around his neck. “We need to push the wedding forward.”

“What!” I fall back against my chair. “Why?”

Papa reaches into his pocket and takes out a Cuban cigar. “Because we need the alliance, Bubba. I told you about what will happen when they find out about Wicked. We need to do this fast before they do anything. Stop being selfish!” His tone is harsh, and I wince, watching as he rolls the cigar around his lips. He blows out a cloud of smoke. “And another thing, I no longer trust Wicked.”

The words hit me harder than the ones about my marriage. “What?” I shoot from my chair, spinning around to look at Tony before looking back at Papa. “Wicked is like a son to you!”