“Why not?”
He shrugged. “I wanted better things for her than working in some greasy dive.”
I arched my eyebrows. “No offense taken.”
“I meant none.”
“And now?”
He shrugged again. “I can see the charm of your establishment.”
“Thanks,” I drawled. “But don’t go overboard with the compliments. They might go to my head or something.”
Silvio arched an eyebrow back at me, then carefully, politely, thoughtfully, stacked his dirty dishes on top of each other and moved them off to the side on the counter.
He’d brought a silverstone briefcase into the restaurant, which he’d set on the stool next to him. He popped open the top and pulled out an electronic tablet.
“So,” he said, staring up at me expectantly, his finger poised over the screen. “Where shall we begin in organizing your schedule?”
I blinked. “My schedule? What schedule?”
He tapped at something on the tablet, then turned it around where I could see it. The image on the screen looked suspiciously like . . . a calendar. The sort that a businessman might use to keep track of meetings, lunches, and whatnot.
I stared at his suit, then at his briefcase, then at the tablet he was still holding out to me. And I finally got an inkling of why Silvio was really here.
I laughed. “Sorry, Silvio, but I’m not the type who needs or wants an assistant.”
He waved his hand, pooh-poohing my objections. “A business owner such as yourself, not to mention a prominent elemental, needs a professional assistant. Trust me on that.”
I shook my head. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t. Besides, you worked for Benson for years. Don’t you want to take a break? Rest and relax and all of that?”
Silvio’s index finger tap-tap-tapped on the tablet, making image after image flash by on the screen. “What do you think I’ve been doing? I’ve been sitting on that riverboat for the past few days, and I’m already bored out of my mind. I’m one of those people who need to keep working, Gin.”
“And you’ve decided that you want to work for me?” I shook my head again. “Some folks would say that you had a death wish, Silvio. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the safest person to be around. And it’s only going to get worse, given what I did to Benson. No doubt, the other underworld bosses will see it as the opening salvo in some sort of war against them.”
He nodded. “Of course they’ll see it that way.”
“And here I thought that I was just doing a bit of pest extermination.”
Silvio gave me a patronizing look, apparently not getting my joke. Admittedly, it was a bit lame.
“By killing Benson in the manner that you did, you declared yourself to be a major power player in Ashland and worthy of being Mab Monroe’s successor. You’ve thrown your hat into the ring, Gin. There’s no taking it back now.”
I sighed. “I know. But it had to be done. I couldn’t let things keep going on the way they were.”
He nodded. “And I believe it was precisely the right action to take. Whatever you think of Beau, everyone knew that he was strong and not someone to be trifled with. Now they’ll think the same of you. Trust me. People won’t just come here to kill you anymore. They’ll want to do business with you too. Perhaps even hire you as the Spider. All that means meetings and a calendar and a schedule to keep.”
I groaned.
“And that’s why you need me,” Silvio continued. “To keep everything organized, but mostly, to be your eyes and ears and keep you apprised of any threats.”
“You want to spy on the other underworld bosses for me?”
“I wouldn’t call it spying. Not exactly. But you’d be surprised how much you can learn by just being someone’s assistant, hanging around outside of meetings, chatting with other assistants, and the like.”
The truth was that I could use a middleman of sorts, if only to try to warn would-be assassins away from me and the restaurant. But I wasn’t about to take advantage of Silvio that way. That would make me no better than Benson, always expecting him to fetch my coat for me.
I shook my head again. “I appreciate the offer, Silvio. Really, I do. But I don’t need an assistant. So take this time for yourself. Do the things that you’ve always wanted to do. You don’t owe me anything for saving you, if that’s what this is about.”
Silvio straightened up, his face as indignant and insulted as if I’d slapped him with a black glove. “Of course I don’t owe you anything. Frankly, I didn’t expect you to come back for me. It was rather stupid of you to do so, especially for me, a complete stranger. And you should have just let Mr. Lane put a couple of bullets into Beau’s head, instead of facing him down yourself. In the future, I hope that you will refrain from taking such foolish risks. I would hate to have to search for another employer.”
The chiding note in his voice reminded me of Fletcher. I raised my eyebrows at him, and Silvio calmed down.
“But I do owe you for Catalina,” he said. “I told Laura that I would watch out for her, and I haven’t exactly done a terrific job of it. But you saved Catalina from Benson, you protected her when I could not, and I am more grateful for that than you will ever realize. I always pay my debts, Gin. You should know that about me.”
“I would have helped Catalina regardless of you or anything else.”
He smiled a little. “I know that too. It’s why I’m going to work for you instead of just paying you off.”
“Lucky me,” I murmured.
But Silvio wasn’t about to be denied. He gestured down at his tablet again. “Now that that’s all settled, why don’t we get started?”
30
I protested again that I didn’t need an assistant, or whatever Silvio saw himself as, but he remained stubbornly steadfast in his insistence that I did. Luckily, some new customers came into the restaurant to take me away from him. I thought that would be the end of things, but he didn’t leave. Instead, he picked up his stuff and settled himself in an out-of-the-way booth next to the restrooms, alternately texting on his phone and typing on his tablet.
I had no idea what he was so furiously typing, but I didn’t have the heart to send him away. If he truly was trying to organize my schedule, it would probably go something like this.
Eat breakfast. Come to work. Check for booby traps. Open restaurant. Ask Sophia to dispose of the latest bodies in the cooler. Kill would-be assassins during afternoon trash run.