At 30 years old, I crawled beneath a banquet table to escape another arranged date my mother had planned. But someone was already hiding there—a massive, tattooed stranger with a scar across his eyebrow, eating a chicken sandwich like he owned the place.
I had no idea he was Chicago’s most feared Mafia boss, or that our mothers were about to walk into the room and reveal something neither of us was supposed …
At 30 years old, I crawled beneath a banquet table to escape another arranged date my mother had planned. But someone was already hiding there—a massive, tattooed stranger with a scar across his eyebrow, eating a chicken sandwich like he owned the place. Read More