Spying Under the Mistletoe (Love Undercover #2) - Stina Lindenblatt Page 0,4
us.” He lists around twenty names, which includes an equal number of males and females. And I must admit I’m surprised by some of them.
“And we would’ve gotten away with it if the nighttime staff hadn’t checked on Agatha and found her missing.” Frank grunts.
Samuel removes the lid from the Monopoly box. “The way they acted, you’d have thought she was the Queen of England. I’m surprised they didn’t call in the secret service to locate her.”
“They practically stormed the room,” Lawrence adds, “surprising the shit out of us.”
Frank laughs even louder this time. “Which wasn’t a bad thing for the individuals dealing with constipation.”
I smile at the four men who, in the past year, have become more like grandfathers to me than my own grandfather ever was.
I’m referring to the one on my mother’s side. I never got to know my other biological grandparents. Nor did I get to know my stepfather’s parents.
As for my remaining grandfather, the last I heard—according to the news—he’s currently facing the possibility of life in prison. The list of charges is long and includes activities associated with the Russian mafia.
That’s right, I’m a mafia princess. Or I would’ve been if I hadn’t escaped that life, thanks to my mom. But leaving it came at a price. I had to walk away from my entire family, including my mother.
Squashing down the pain of missing her that perpetually bubbles beneath the surface—along with the pain that my family so easily turned their backs on me—I help Samuel set up the board and hand out the game pieces and money. Because Samuel worked in the financial industry before he retired, he’s always the banker.
“Do you have any plans for Christmas, Chloe?” Ivan asks after we’ve been playing for several minutes.
Frank rolls the dice. “Christmas? That’s not for another six weeks. We haven’t even had Thanksgiving yet.”
“I have no plans,” I say, “other than visiting the residents who’ll be spending the holidays here.”
“Why not spend it with your family?”
“Or with a husband?” Lawrence adds.
I don’t answer, pretending both were rhetorical questions, pretending to be super enthralled with the game.
The men aren’t fooled. I can feel their curious gazes on me.
“Do you realize,” he says, “we’ve all shared about our past lives, and about our families and loved ones, but we really know nothing about you, young lady? Other than you’re a kindergarten teacher, you love your job, you volunteer here several times a week, and you’re single. That’s it.”
“And you’re an artist,” Frank adds.
“A graphic artist,” Samuel clarifies, “who would one day like to illustrate children’s books.”
All of that is true. I went to art school and had planned to have a career illustrating children’s books and creating kid-friendly artwork. I ended up taking some art therapy courses, worked in a summer day camp for a few years, and decided I wanted to be an elementary school teacher.
And I couldn’t be happier.
Happier than I ever would’ve been as a mafia princess.
“Then you know everything there is to know about me,” I say, adjusting my property cards on the table, ensuring their edges are all even, so I don’t have to make eye contact with the men.
“What about your family?” Lawrence asks. “Do they live in San Francisco, too?”
“No.” Or at least I’m assuming none of them still live in the city. I haven’t heard from any of them in seven years. Not even my cousin Nikolai, who I was close to growing up.
My grandfather had explained to my family that due to my decision to not be a part of the family business, they weren’t to contact me anymore.
But despite that, I had hoped that Nikolai would’ve contacted me at some point over the years—other than sending me the occasional birthday and Christmas card, which I’m positive our grandfather doesn’t know about. I still have them. They’re my only link to the family I was once a part of. They’re the only link I have to the man who was once my best friend.
“They don’t live anywhere near me,” I lamely say. The truth is, I have no idea in which jail my grandfather currently resides, and I have no intention of finding out.
“What about a special someone in your life?” Lawrence asks.
“You mean like friends? Yes, I have those.”
Okay, I mostly have colleagues with whom I’m friendly. And a couple of close friends. Kiera and Ava are both teachers where I work.
Lawrence raises his eyebrow. “That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re a