“I have had enough. This family can’t get through one goddamn dinner without arguing. If your mother was still here—” “If our mother was still here, there wouldn’t be a capo chaser sitting opposite me.” Silence. Tor lets out a low whistle. Amelia’s fingers gently brush my forearm, and Alberto groans. I should sip my wine and smooth down my hair and let the comment go over my head. But being that girl doesn’t come easy to me. “A capo chaser?” My eyes dart to the steak knife, then up to Dante’s scowl. “What does that mean?”
