Once she was gone, I turned to Peyton and shoved Logan’s deliciously deep voice from my mind. “What else do you know about the Blue Hill Gang?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “They swept the streets of Boston in the seventies and focused their efforts on racketeering, loan-sharking, and illegal gambling. Years later they merged with the Dorchester Heights Gang. Lots of rumors as to why, but no one knows for certain. Now some guy named Patrick Flannigan runs the gang and they own most of the strip clubs in Boston. I don’t really know anything else. I’m sure you could Google them.”

Google them!

I didn’t have to. I felt like I knew too much already. I was worried Michael was involved with them, and the thought scared the living shit out of me.

“Hey, who knows, they might not even be related,” she said, brushing past me and making a beeline to the table with the scarves. It was in disarray and her OCD must have kicked in.

Patrick. Logan mentioned him yesterday. Patrick, the head of the Irish Mob, had something to do with my sister.

I felt sick.

As Peyton folded scarves, I thought about what she’d said, but I already knew Logan had to be related to him. It was the only thing that made sense over the past twenty-four hours. I stared at the intricate golden design of the cash register as my thoughts overtook me. This was so much more dangerous than I had thought. What had my sister gotten her family into?

“Elle, it’s Michael.” Peyton held out the phone that was right next to me.

I hadn’t even heard it ring.

I took it. “Hey, Michael, how’s Clementine today?” My voice was shaky.

“She’s fine.”

“Oh, good. I need to—”

“Listen, Elle, there’s been a slight change of plans, though. I had to drop her off at Erin’s house earlier today and I’m in New York.”

“New York?” I asked, leaning back on the counter.

“Client emergency. Do you mind picking her up and staying with her at the house? I should be home tomorrow afternoon, or early evening at the latest.”

Feeling restless, I moved to stand behind the cash register. “Yes, sure, of course. You should have brought her here, though. You know your sister has her hands full with the new baby.”

“It was so last minute that I hated to bother you. After I tried the nanny and she didn’t pick up, I called Erin. I have to run. I’ll be unreachable most of the night. Leave me a message if anything serious comes up.”

I searched for a pen. “Sure thing. Where are you staying?”

He had already hung up.

I felt my body slump in exhaustion.

“Everything okay?” Peyton asked. She had moved from the scarf table and was now straightening the sample bottles of perfumes and lotions lined up on the glass shelves next to the empty cabinet that had displayed the sex toys. Logan was right—they’d sold quickly.

I felt like I was in a daze. “Yes. Michael had to drop Clementine off at Erin’s and wants me to pick her up there.”

She spritzed the air with one of the scents. “I thought you said Erin doesn’t like to keep her.”

I breathed in the Jo Malone white lavender scent—it was my favorite. “It’s not that she doesn’t like to keep her. I think it’s more that she has a lot on her plate.”

“Why didn’t he just bring her here?” Peyton asked, sounding shocked that he hadn’t.

My temper was short and snapped. “I don’t know—maybe because it is our grand opening and he assumed we’d be busy with customers.”

She ignored my response and pressed on. “What about the nanny? Do you think he’s screwing her?”

Straightening my shoulders, I walked over to the empty cabinet beside her and locked the door. “No, I don’t. He said he tried her first but she didn’t answer.”

She twisted her lips. “See? He is screwing her.”

I rubbed my tired eyes. “No he’s not. You’re watching too much television.”

“Miss, how much are the rugs?” An older gentleman held two in his hands.

“I got this,” Peyton volunteered.

I pushed up from the counter and took a few deep breaths. I hadn’t even gotten to tell Michael about what happened last night. And now I had the whole have you been keeping me in the dark because the Mob is involved thing to discuss with him.

“I’m back.”

I turned to see Rachel holding a cardboard tray of caffè lattes and couldn’t be happier.

“You’re the best.” I smiled as I took the one marked Elle.

Rachel was a bubbly, determined, petite blonde with a lot of spunk and sass. Almost as much as Peyton, but not quite. She was still in college, had a serious boyfriend, a 4.0 average, and was pretty funny. I hired her to work part-time after three minutes of speaking with her.

She set the tray behind the counter. “I need to sweep up the coffee beans that spilled on the floor before Peyton sees them and blows a gasket.”

I laughed at that and took a welcome sip of my latte.

The store was quiet for the first time all day and I took a moment to think about everything that was happening in my life. There were so many strange things going on that the simple fact that a guy I’d just met might be involved with the Mob didn’t really faze me like it should have.

The old butler bell Peyton had affixed above the door to alert us when someone was coming in chimed, and I glanced up to see a man in a blue quilted jacket walking in.

My car. I had completely forgotten about it. Thankfully, Michael must have at least gone to the garage before he had to leave to sign off on the additional repairs.

“I have an auto delivery for Elizabeth O’Shea,” he said.

“That’s me.”

In this moment, it felt more wrong than ever pretending to be my sister. What if that was her in my yard last night? What kind of trouble was she in? Where was she? Did she need me?

“It’s parked up the street,” he said.

I took the keys he was handing me. “Thank you.”

A crowd of women walked in as he left, and the rest of the afternoon sped by with so many customers. Peyton and I never had a chance to talk privately again.

At six thirty, Rachel, Peyton, and I finally walked outside, all complaining that our feet were killing us. Rachel’s boyfriend was waiting for her in his car and as soon as she spotted him, she fled, yelling, “See you Tuesday,” as she got in.

Peyton and I both stood there smiling at her.

I turned to Peyton. “Wow. What a great day.”

“High five.” She raised her hand.

I slapped it. “You were amazing today.”

“No, you were.”

Feeling smug, I lifted my chin. “I do know my shit.”

She threw her arms around me and gave me a tight squeeze. “You are great at this. The soft opening was amazing. Now you have two days off—take the time and relax. You deserve it after the hours we’ve put in getting ready for the opening. I don’t expect to see you here until we reopen on Tuesday. There is nothing for you to do until then. You need a break. You’ve been going nonstop for weeks. I’ll come in tomorrow and restock, and then stop in on Monday to check the deliveries.”

“You sure?” I asked, feeling guilty leaving her to do all the cleanup.

She nodded. “I’m sure. You got any plans?”

“No,” I said emphatically.

“Not going to see Mr. Big Dick?”

I gave her a little shove. “Stop calling him that.”

“Well, are you?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.”

“Hey, he doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be involved with the Mafia, so I wouldn’t worry about that.”

I smiled at her and answered, “I’m not.” I wasn’t sure if that was true, but wasn’t sure it wasn’t, either.

Peyton had no idea what was going on with my sister. In fact, I’d told her she was in rehab for drug use, like I’d told everyone else. I felt bad lying but knew it was for the best. The fewer people involved, the better.

“Good. If he asks you out, go.” Apparently, Peyton wasn’t finished with the conversation about Logan.