Family Treed by Pauline Baird Jones Page B

expectations low when breaking bread with a wise geezer.
    At least she wasn’t related to Afoniki.
    She hoped. Were there still secrets waiting to ooze up out of the past? Was that why he’d summoned her to meet some of her mob cousins in this so-called neutral territory?
    The ornate entry was about as welcoming as a funeral parlor. Nell looked around. No, that was unfair to funeral parlors. They were definitely more welcoming. Though this place smelled better. Maybe the food would be good. There was a brief transition from damp warm outside into headache-inducing cold inside, then the large doors closed them in the wise dwelling and there was no more warm. Just cold.
    Another goon, who bore a faint resemblance to a butler, indicated her sweater with a brusque, “Take that?”
    Nell clutched the edges and shook her head. Maybe her host had cranked down the A/C to enhance the house’s “Return of the Czars” theme. Too bad she’d left her white fur coat in the store. With the new dress she also couldn’t afford. When she and Alex stopped at the doorway of an obscenely ornate room, occupied by a small cluster of possible cousins and Dimitri, Nell realized she was not the only one to go with the basic little black dress.
    And that not all little black dresses were created equal.
    There was a blonde whose little black dress took the room prize for littlest little black dress. The fabric to skin ratio was interesting even for New Orleans. The brunette had more dress but she had more to cover. They’d also donned some serious snooty to go with their blingy bling. If their noses elevated any more, they’d fall on their backs.
    With some reluctance Nell considered Dimitri, their host’s bad boy cub—a host who did not appear to have made an appearance at his own dinner party. Certainly no sign of a geezer-like dude from their vantage point. The cub flanked the girls on one side. Opposite Dimitri was a guy who was as pretty as the two women, only with more clothes. His perfectly tailored suit probably cost more than she’d make the rest of her life. It took Dimitri a moment to realize they were there—or he’d pretended to take a moment—before he turned, starting with considerable charm. Nell would have liked to know how he managed that. Making rude seem charming would be a useful skill for this new reality of hers.
    Her chin lifted as the chilly gazes of both women swept down Nell’s dress—which hit modestly at her knees—to the black flats. Sarah would have lent her some killer heels, but Nell had thought wearing anything killer would send the wrong message.
    Dimitri surged her way, lightly clasping Nell’s shoulders. When he leaned in to kiss her on one cheek, then the other, Nell quelled a totally natural desire to knee him in the groin. Luckily he didn’t cling, so quelling was possible.
    Nell wished she dared edge closer to Alex. She didn’t like feeling pinned in place. “You remember Alex, don’t you, Mr. Afoniki?”
    The look in his eyes told her that, yes, he remembered Alex and wasn’t happy she’d swapped him for Sarah. Nell had sensed a little something from Dimitri for Sarah, which is why she hadn’t told Sarah she’d been invited. Not the way a friend thanked their bestie for pulling one out of the pit of despair. Not to mention the place to live and the job.
    The charm of his smile lessened, though he nodded politely enough at Alex. Perhaps he thought the DBYOC—Don’t Bring Your Own Cop—was so obvious it didn’t need to be added to the invite. Too bad there wasn’t a Wiki on how to deal with these people. And how sad was it that she’d looked?
    He ramped the charm up again and deployed a smile. “I thought I asked you to call me Dimitri?”
    To mute her deer-in-the-headlights, yeah-that’s-never-going-to-happen look, Nell deployed her fake smile, then shifted her