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her get through this. For the next hour she alternated between sadness and anger. She finally cried herself to sleep. I stayed with her, falling asleep on the couch just before the sun came up. When I woke up, Camilla had coffee made and she looked like she was in a little better place anyways.
    “Make sure that you don’t go anywhere alone,” I told her. “Don’t let anyone other than myself in unless I’ve called to let you know someone was coming over, okay?” She looked frightened and I hated that was because of me. She’d grown up in this life though; her father was one of my father’s soldier’s until he too was found dead. She understood what was at stake. She nodded and I hugged her again.
    “Thank you for telling me yourself,” she said. I gave her a nod; she shouldn’t have to thank me for giving her news like this.
    “I’ll check in on you soon,” I told her. I had to get home and shower before my crew showed up for our meeting.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN: ALANA
     
    I spent my Monday at a high school in Brooklyn. The principle of the school decided the students would no longer have the option of doing sports. They would be offered art and music and dance classes instead. They would be given opportunities to work with some of New York’s finest artists and musician’s because the principle decided that was where the money the school usually spent on sports went. First of all, I could totally see where he was coming from. Excelling in the arts would make the world a better place faster than excelling in sports would, at least in my opinion. Second of all, he was a fool to think that in America of all places he could get away with it and keep his job. That’s the part that made my editor think this was newsworthy. It was going to be a fight. The school board and the parents were on the verge of tarring and feathering him, but because of the teachers union they wouldn’t be able to fire him easily. Most importantly of all, I didn’t really care about any of it. I was tired of covering stories that were barely a blip on the radar of the average American. I was only going through the motions and I’d write up a silly little article that practically no one would read because it was my job…
    All I could really think about today was Sammie Romo and the mafia story and the fact that I’d told Nate I was engaged to the heir to the New York mafia throne.
    I don’t know what I’d been thinking….I was pissed and I wanted to shut him up, but my bravado had waned throughout the day. I still wanted the story and I still wanted to rub it in Nate’s face, but was I willing to give up literally years of my life?
    As I had that thought, I slid into my car and I actually laughed out loud. What life? In the past three years I’d had three serious boyfriends. Each one of them had lasted approximately half the year and I’d spend the next half alone and reeling and swearing I would never do it again. My parents had moved to Florida almost as soon as I was out of the house. My only sibling was a much older sister who lived in France with her husband, two kids and three French poodles. My friends were mostly acquaintances and sadly, there was no one around to really miss me.
    If I agreed to do this, I could be there when Sammie Romo brought the mob to its knees. I’d be known as the journalist who brought down the mob forever and I could add protecting my heart to the list because if I was pretending to be engaged, I couldn’t date therefore I couldn’t hook up with another loser who would break it.
    I thought about Sammie again….tall, glistening olive skin…sculpted muscles….a shiver ran through my body. I warned myself once more that I wouldn’t be sleeping with him…the engagement was all for pretend and sleeping with him would not only confuse the issue, it would compromise my integrity as a serious journalist.
    I’d been driving as I was thinking and before I knew it I was in front of the Glass Towers.