Page 5 of Body of Trust

“I’m sure he’s a great asset,” I say with a closed-mouth smile.

Uncle Frankie seems to agree as he pats my hand. “You’re a good one. I told your father we should have taken care of that Buonno kid after he … you know. But his father is a friend of the family. I want you to know I thought a good ass-kickin’ was in order.” The thick gold ring he wears on his pointer finger hurts my hand a little.

“It’s fine. Thank you, but Anthony isn’t worth it.”

“You remember that. I have big plans for you. Keep your eyes focused on everything around you.” His words are poignant, so I nod dutifully.

Jesse hangs up the phone and gives my uncle a nod.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend to.” Uncle Frankie walks to the back of the room and ushers the men, including my father, into the hallway toward the President’s Room—a conference room meant for closed-door meetings.

“I didn’t know they were working tonight,” I say out loud.

Jesse hears me as he pours a glass of wine. “I’m sure it’ll be a quick one.”

I glance at my watch. My mother and sister should be here soon. And by soon, I mean, in the next twenty minutes.

“Is your family always as late as mine?”

Jesse looks up at me while he makes a drink but doesn’t answer.

“You don’t like to talk about yourself, do you?” I ask despite his silence.

“Like you, I don’t like the attention.”

“I can tell. One inkling of a personal question, and you shut down.”

His lip quirks. “That’s a bad thing?”

“No. It’s just … never mind.”

As he brings the drink to one of my aunts on the other side of the bar, I admire his form. He might not like attention, but he certainly attracts it without trying. It’s in his build. He’s tall and lean. He’s wearing a simple black dress shirt and slacks, and yet he looks like he could be on the cover of a magazine.

My aunt gives him a flirtatious smile as she accepts the drink and then walks into the dining room.

Jesse and I are now the only two left in the Oak Bar. I finish my drink as he wipes down the counters. With the room empty, I can hear a Michael Bublé song coming from the speakers. I take a deep breath and tap my fingers on my thigh.

A low laugh escapes Jesse’s throat. He raises a brow at me and then smiles. With a shake of his head, he leans his elbows on the bar and lowers his gaze to mine.

“What?”

“Do you play poker?” he asks, and I nod my head. “Everyone thinks the key to the game is in the hand that’s dealt, but the only way to win is to read your opponents’ tells. You, my friend, have many.”

“Opponents?”

“Tells.” He smiles. “You’re nervous.”

I lift my gaze to the ceiling. “There is nothing to be nervous about.”

He folds his arms across his body and looks down at me, studying my expression. I try to keep a straight face, not giving away how jittery he makes me.

“Ask me something personal,” he finally says.

I hold up a hand. “Is this because I made that comment? It’s cool. I didn’t mean to pry into your life—”

“Amelia.” My name comes out deep and low. “I’m giving you the chance. One question, and I promise I’ll answer.”

My teeth graze my lower lip as I think about what to ask. I only get one question, so I’d better make it a good one. I shift in my seat as I think about it. A million things run through my head, and yet, for reasons beyond comprehension, I decide on something deeper.