The Real Boss

Tommaso

I followed Paige to her office where sat behind her low-slung, light wood desk, and I couldn’t help marveling at her in the summer sun. She’d regained all the weight she’d lost during her captivity, and her soft, round cheeks had picked up a sprinkling of freckles over the few beach trips I’d managed to coax her away from the house long enough to take. She’d given up her oversized sweaters for slouchy crop-tops and shorts that she said allowed the women here to see her like one of them rather than the mean house manager, but she carried herself with a confidence that told everyone she passed as exactly who held the power in the room.

I dropped into the light green chair on the opposite side of the desk and smiled. “You know, these days, it feels more like you’re the don and I’m the capo.”

She laughed. “Here? You think this is the sort of office I’d have as a don?”

I glanced around the light, sun-drenched space. It looked like no mafia office I’d ever seen in my life. “I think