I lock my phone after texting Dad with a vague excuse about needing to stay longer to deal with a situation for Stefano. The lie leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, but I can't risk my father finding out the reason and having him whisk me away to Florida before I find out why Stefano suddenly has an interest in my well-being.
"Why a diner and one in your territory, too?" I ask, breaking the tense silence hanging between us. I drop the laminated menu on the table with a thud, the sound echoing off the diner's tiled walls. Stefano's piercing green eyes bore into me from across the booth; his jaw clenched tight. The tension crackles in the air, suffocating me.
The diner is a well-known neutral ground for Cosa Nostra dealings under the watchful eye of the Costanzo family. No rival gang would
