My Driver’s Girlfriend Called Me a Freeloader,But I Was the Donna

Every time my wheelman drove me across the territory, he brought his girlfriend along.

Since her stops were on the way, I never said a word about it.

Until one morning I opened the door of the armored car and found a note pressed flat against my seat in the back:

"Hangers-on don't ride in this car."

I peeled it loose and turned to the driver. "What is this?"

His girlfriend sat up front, watching me with open contempt. "Can't you read? Every single day you mooch a ride off my boyfriend. Have you no shame? If you can't afford a cab, stay home. Dio, I can't stand leeches like you."

I stared at her, completely baffled. The driver hurried around to my side and dropped his voice to explain.

"Donna Valente, my girl doesn't know I only drive for the Family. She's the jealous type. The note's just... her way of showing she cares."

He paused, then added, "And she's not comfortable sharing the car with you. Let me drop her off first. Then I'll come back for you."

Before I could answer, Nico Bruno slid behind the wheel of my car and pulled off into traffic.

I stood at the curb, watching the taillights vanish between the buildings. Then I calmly took out my phone and dialed the precinct that owed us favors.

"A man and a woman just took my car without permission. I want to report it stolen."

——

Never once in my life had I imagined that as the Donna of one of the oldest bloodlines in this city, someone would look me in the eye and call me a hanger-on.

And the car they drove off in was mine.

Twenty minutes after the call, a squad car eased to the curb in front of me.

Two officers had barely stepped out when Nico Bruno came tearing around the corner in my black armored car. He hit the brakes, lurching to a stop feet away, and jumped out. His face was chalk-white.

"Donna Valente, what happened? Why did you call the Feds?"

I looked at him. Said nothing.

One of the officers sized him up. "You the man Ms. Valente says took her vehicle without authorization?"

The color drained from Nico's face even further. "No, no, officers, this is all a misunderstanding." His hands went up, palms out, and his thumb dragged hard across his knuckles. "I'm Ms. Valente's driver. I take her every day. I just dropped someone off on the way. A few extra minutes, that's all. Nobody stole anything."

He gestured frantically at the car behind him, forcing a grin. "See? Brought it right back. First thing."

The officers looked at me, then back at him. "Ms. Valente, you want to press charges?"

I was about to answer when Nico leaned in close, his voice dropping to a desperate whisper, his thumb working faster over his knuckles.

"Donna Valente, please. For my father's sake. He drove for you all those years. Let this one go."

He swallowed hard. "You know Pop's lungs are bad. I finally found a girl, and it's the one thing he wanted for me. What I did back there was just to keep things smooth between her and me. I had no choice."

The mention of his father softened something in me.

Salvatore Bruno had driven for me for six years. An old soldier of the Family, honest, dependable, steady behind the wheel, never once a source of trouble. In all those years, he had never been late, never taken a single wrong turn. Every Christmas, when I pressed an envelope into his hand, he'd wave it off for a solid five minutes before finally accepting.

Three months ago, Salvatore's lungs failed him. The doctors ordered long rest. He had no choice but to step down from the Family's service.

On his last day, he stood in my study, rough hands twisting together, clearly wanting to say something but unable to get the words out. At last, his face flushed with shame, he told me his son Nico had lost his footing and had nowhere to go. If the Family had a place for him, could I give the boy a chance.

Salvatore had been an honest man his whole life. He had never once asked me for a favor. That was the first time.

Out of respect for him, I said yes.

For the first two months, Nico did fine.