Eleni
I rip all the slices of onion off my face while looking at Mama.
“Go,” she says, impressing on me with her eyes that I’m not to make the boss whose house we’re standing in upset. “I’ll get the ‘zucchini balls’ finished for you.”
I stand and join Dante in the doorway. He immediately steps into the hall, then leads me deeper into the house than I’ve been before. Now, having been in the kitchen, I can see the touches of opulence everywhere. That blue-and-white vase on an end table is probably antique. The plush carpet we pad over is probably from overseas. The leather chair in a nook is probably real.
A door opens ahead of us, and I jump back a step as a beautiful woman in matching leggings and a sports bra steps out. Her long, pitch-black hair curls nearly to her waist, and her dar
