Dark Deception (Vampire Royals of New York #1) - Sarah Piper Page 0,41

father had double-crossed them, intending to split the proceeds with his man, only to have it all go south on him.

Charley blinked away old tears.

In his life, her father had been a lot of things. A master thief. A violent drunk. A cheating husband. Even a murderer, at least one time that Charley knew about. But he was a loving father, and unwaveringly loyal to the crew he’d handpicked from the best guys he’d ever worked with. Unwaveringly loyal to Charley.

Yeah, he was a bad man—she’d accepted that long ago.

But he was not a traitor.

Unfortunately, Charley was alone in that opinion, and she’d learned long ago not to bring it up to Uncle Rudy. When it came to the death and apparent betrayal of his only brother, he couldn’t go there.

“Tell me why we should keep investing in your professional development,” Rudy said now, “when you’re giving us nothing in return? The team is starting to question whether your head is in the game.”

Charley clenched her jaw. Nothing could be further from the truth. The game, as he put it, was her pathway to a normal life, and she was all in.

But how much longer could she keep playing by his fucked-up rules?

“I get it,” she said calmly, forcing a contrite smile. She needed to get back on his good side, and fast. “I’m sorry, Uncle Rudy. I’m frustrated too. The family from last night? They’re broke. Almost everything valuable went to auction long before we heard about them. And they—”

Charley snapped her mouth shut as the waiter approached.

“Get some appetizers, kiddo,” Rudy said, waving a hand over the menu. “Whatever you want.”

Charley had already lost her appetite, but she ordered the hummus to make him happy, along with her favorite lunch platter and some baklava she’d take home for Sasha. Second only to making her feel like a child, Rudy’s favorite hobby was picking up the check—the bigger the better.

They never talked about money, but despite the fact that her job didn’t exactly offer a salary and benefits, and most of her father’s liquid assets were stashed in offshore accounts she couldn’t access, the $5,000 monthly maintenance fee on her father’s penthouse always got paid, the lights stayed on, and no matter how often she charged up the credit card, Charley never once saw a bill.

Sasha may have gotten a scholarship to college, but when it came to everything else? Charley knew damn well who was taking care of them, and it wasn’t some rainy-day insurance policy her father had set up.

Rudy didn’t mind the elephant in the room, though, so long as it was his elephant. It gave him power over her, a fundamental control that guaranteed she’d never leave or betray him. Never mind what she wanted, what she thought was right. Charley didn’t even know how to do anything else.

Worse, she didn’t have the courage to try.

She’d helped plan complicated, dangerous heists, evaded the FBI… Hell, she’d even been stabbed once. But none of that mattered, because when push came to shove, Charley was a fucking coward. Afraid to look in the mirror. Afraid to live.

Without the life her father had built for her, the person he’d molded her into, what did she have? What did she know?

The waiter returned with their appetizers and another martini for Rudy.

Now, watching him shove bread and hummus into his greasy mouth, Charley swallowed the bitter truth: without Rudy and the crew, Charlotte D'Amico didn’t exist.

“Talk to me about the Whitfield,” he said suddenly, a glob of hummus stuck on the corner of his mouth. “Dorian Redthorne has already made arrangements to donate it to the Jewish Historical Society.”

Charley nearly choked on her water. “What? How do you know that?”

He smiled without showing his teeth, which meant he wouldn’t reveal his source. After Charley and Rudy, there were three guys officially on the crew, but Rudy had an entire network of seedy freelance associates, every one of them jockeying for higher positions. Charley wasn’t surprised he’d already heard about the painting. In this city, even the rats had ears.

“He must’ve mentioned his plans last night,” he said. “You two seemed to be getting along quite famously when I saw you.”

Charley’s thighs clenched beneath the table as she tried in vain to stave off the memories, the ghost of Dorian’s passionate touch still burning her skin.

“Charlotte.” Rudy reached across the table, caging her hand in an icy grip. Then, in a tone as cold as his touch, “If this job isn’t