Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.

Lao Zi

JENNIE

The drive to the restaurant is a short one. We go straight from the underground private garage of the penthouse building to the underground garage of the restaurant's building. I never even breathe in the New York air.

Lalisa opens the door for me, offering me a hand that I proudly refuse. I'm a 21st century woman, damn it. I can get myself out of a damn car. Instead of her hand, I use the door to help me up and accidentally press one of the buttons near the door handle. As soon as it happens, wheels pop out of the bottom of the door.

My eyes widen at the bizarre sight. "Did your car just grow wheels?!"

"They're there in case the car is halted during a shootout." She ignores my sharp intake of breath. In my defense, the idea of needing protection from a shootout is so foreign that it's outlandish. "The door can be removed from its hinges, and we can hide behind the bulletproof door while we move somewhere safer. The wheels are there so we don't have to carry the door."

That's… genius.

But also ridiculous.

A shootout?!

Lalisa presses the button again, and the wheels slide slowly back into the car door. She offers her arm to me, and I place my hand on the crook of her elbow, worried that if I don't accept her help again, something might grow out of her, too. Like maybe horns from her temples or a devil's tail.

We're led into the restaurant by the maître d, who calls Lalisa "Ms. Manoban" and me "Ms. Kim" without any introductions needed. How he knows my name, I have no clue. He takes us from the private underground garage into a private room. Lalisa's guards, who accompanied us in the front seat of the town car, station themselves at the door—one outside and one inside.

I take in the room. It's a large room, but there's only one table in it, a fancy ovular table with four place settings made up. On one wall is glass, stretching across the expanse of the entire wall. On the other side of it is the kitchen, though I assume the glass is one way, because the kitchen staff don't seem to realize that we're on the other side.

I'm shocked to see the guy from my first night at Rogue—Bastian, I think—there, talking to what looks like the head chef.

Lalisa's eyes follow my line of sight. "He's my manager."

My manager.

Boss.

My mind quickly pieces everything together.

Lalisa owns L'oscurità. Bastian is the manager. That's how Bastian works for her.

When we're seated beside one another, waiters arrive and pour us wine without taking our orders. Once they leave, Bastian enters the room with an older man, probably in his late forties. They're both dressed in suits, walking into the area with confident body language. Lalisa said we're meeting up with her family, but I notice that neither Bastian nor the man look anything like Lalisa does.

Lalisa stands up and hugs the man tightly. Seriously.

When they pull back from each other, Lalisa asks, "How are you, Vince?"

"Business is well. I can't complain." Vince turns his eyes to me, and they light up. "You must be Jennie. My name is Vincent, but you may call me Vince or Vinny."

I nod and move to shake his hand, but he pulls me into a hug, too. Flustered, I return it, albeit weakly. When we're all seated, I look between the three men.

I must look curious, because Vince laughs and says, "It's not a blood relation, dear."

Bastian scoffs. "Yeah, no way am I related to that ugly face."

A genuine smirk crosses Lalisa's "ugly" face. "I can recall a few of your ex-girlfriends that have said otherwise."

Wait.

Back up.

Did she just make a joke?

Lalisa just made a joke.

This is weird.

Why are they acting like it's normal?

It's definitely weird, right?

Mafia killers don't joke… They sit around in dark rooms by themselves, brooding and listening to classical music in between their kills.

Vince laughs wholeheartedly, ignoring my bewilderment, and says to me, "That's how this all began. Bastian and Lisa were dating the same young lady, a—"

Bastian smirks and says, "She was no lady," at the same time Lalisa snorts and says, "We weren't dating. We were fucking."

Bastian's eyes narrow. "Yeah, yeah. You think you're hot shit, Lisa. We know."

Vince ignores the two. "Bastian finds out about Lisa, and she goes to confront her."

"And I fucked him up," finishes Lalisa. "He had a baseball bat, too."

"I have three brothers—Ely, Gino, and Frankie," Vince says.

I still. Frankie is the head of the Romano family, which would mean that Vince is not only a Romano but also a high-ranking member. I'm essentially eating dinner with mafia royalty… and I'm not even scared.

How badass am I right now?

"Bastian is Gino's son, which would make him my nephew. I was head of enforcement, so I was sent to deal with Lisa personally, Bastian being my nephew and all. I wasn't expecting what I found. Naturally, Bastian lied and told us he was beaten by someone older, but at the time, Lisa was just a 15-year old girl, almost five years younger than Bastian. So, I looked at her and said—"

"Where are your shoes, girl?" Lalisa finishes.

"And Lisa said—"

"I ain't got none."

"And I said—"

"Well, let's go get you some."

There's a look of fondness on Lalisa's face. It's so vulnerable, it takes me completely by surprise. I've been looking for her weaknesses since the moment I met her, and here it is, and it's so unexpected…

Lalisa loves somebody.

Her love for this man is palpable, as tangible as the ground I walk on and the chair I'm sitting on. It's the biggest weakness I've seen of her yet, the most vulnerable side of her she has shown me. I didn't even think she had any vulnerabilities. I almost gave up searching.

I'm ashamed that I immediately wonder how I can use this to my benefit.

As perceptive as ever, Lalisa narrows her eyes at me and leans in, whispering softly into my ear, "Don't mistake my love for a weakness, Jennie. That love was strong enough to turn an eighteen-year-old girl into a ruthless killer. Heed my warning. There is nothing I won't do for the ones I love."

I back up sharply at her words, quickly scooting my chair over a little in the process.

… strong enough to turn an eighteen year old girl into a ruthless killer.

There's a rumor that, when Lalisa was eighteen, she was living with a Romano caporegime when they were attacked by members of the Andretti family. This was during the territory wars, and the Andretti family sent two dozen people to kill the capo, which must have been Vince.

After a fight broke out between Vince's guards and the Andretti soldiers, there were still over a dozen Andretti soldiers left alive. They thought they won, that Vince was theirs. They didn't know that Lalisa was living there. They weren't ready for her. Maybe they never could be. She killed them all, and then she infiltrated the home of one of the Andretti capos and did what they had tried to do to Vince.

Only she succeeded, killing an Andretti capo and dozens of his men.

A shiver runs down my spine.

There is nothing I won't do for the ones I love.

I'll remember her warning for as long as I live. I was wrong. Her love isn't a weakness. It's her greatest strength.

Vince turns his knowing eyes to me and says, "Lisa is like my daughter. She moved into my home soon after I met her, and she lived there, even when she went to Wilton."

When Bastian's face turns into a snarl and he says, "Yeah, and her piece of shit 'parents' didn't even realize she was gone until she started making money, and they wanted a piece of the cut," I realize that he loves Lalisa, too.

I didn't know love until that moment. Maybe I thought of love as a weakness because I've never felt it. The only relationships I've seen have been nasty, parasitic and volatile parodies, bastardized by the endless stream of foster parents I've had. Until now, I didn't know what it's like to love and be loved. This… the way these three look at each other, interact, and treat one another…

It's magical.

It's the strongest thing I've ever witnessed.

And I want it for myself.

Badly.