*Giovani*
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to go alone.” That was what my wife said to me as she prepared to have dinner with her father, a man who had abandoned her for twenty years and reappeared just as suddenly.
Of course, I minded. And she knew it too.
I agreed not to go with her and I didn’t. But I never agreed not to follow her.
I ran a hand through my hair, clenching the steering wheel of the car as I listened to the mic we’d placed on Ben rang out through my phone. She had no clue her guard had been bugged and she never would, hopefully.
“This is fucked,” Gabriele shook his head disapprovingly from the seat next to us.
I sent him a glare and he shut up, gazing out the window as we listened to the sounds of the restaurant ambiance–deep breaths from Ben and the clattering of forks and knives against the glass.
It was busy tonight.
“And did you have to bring the kid?” Gabriele huffed, looking over the seat into the backseat.
