the rim of his glass.
Inclined to relax a little, I take a sip of my drink and say, “How did you know who I work for?”
Wilder opens his jacket to retrieve his wallet from the front pocket. He flips through a few business cards before slapping one on the bar top for me to see.
It’s a standard black business card with the word Hush typed across the front in white. Inez’s number is on the back. “It’s my understanding that Inez Ricci has a monopoly on the escorting business in our area. These tend to get left around for me to find a lot.”
Merely glancing at the card, I look away and say, “You won’t get to me by calling the number on the back of that card, Wilder Ridge.”
He smiles, and I see a bit of Talent in him. It lessens how defensive I feel.
“I’ve never called the number. The Ridges are perfect, but you already know that.”
“Someone might want to give Talent the memo,” I say sarcastically. “I heard he’s fallen in love with a prostitute.”
Wilder chokes on his drink and laughs out loud, wiping bourbon from his lip. “Beautiful and funny.”
Holding a finger up, I include, “And slutty. Your brother didn’t stand a chance. I’m the motherfucking trifecta.”
“Got any friends?”
I roll my eyes. “You wish. Call the number if you’re lonely.”
Talent appears at the other end of the ballroom with a man I instantly recognize as Talent and Wilder’s father, David Ridge. His sons are taller than him, but like Inez, his very presence demands respect. He doesn’t have the swagger Talent’s adopted, and David doesn’t seem as rigid as his firstborn. His body language is somewhere in the middle, with one hand at his side and the other in his pocket.
Father and son stop right outside the hallway before joining the party, when I realize there’s a third person with them.
My heart stops once and my stomach drops. “Wilder, is that Giovanni Coppola?”
“The one and only. This is his birthday party.” Wilder tosses back the rest of his bourbon and slams his glass down. He walks away and mumbles, “Welcome to the family.”
I don’t fuck with actors, politicians, or the mafia.
Giovanni Coppola is the mafia.
Head of the Coppola crime family, Giovanni has his hands in everything that happens from Grand Haven to the Canadian border. To conduct business in his area, a tax must be paid at the beginning of the month like clockwork. Unless you’re Inez Ricci. She’s an exemption to the rule, but she’s never told me why.
I never cared to ask because I. Don’t. Fuck. With. The. Mafia.
The room suddenly looks very different once I realize I’m drinking bourbon at Gio Coppola’s birthday party, likely surrounded by drug runners, extortionists, and killers. Taxing business owners for the right to work is at the end of the long list of what the Coppola family is involved with. Cartels, gangs, public officials don’t make moves without the Coppola’s say so.
What the fuck does a family of private equity lawyers have in common with the mob?
Wilder approaches the trio and shakes hands with Giovanni, before patting his brother on the shoulder and whispering to him privately. Talent’s dark gray eyes immediately find mine. If I weren’t utterly shocked, I’d leave. But I can’t get my legs to work.
“Take my hand,” Talent says after he’s crossed the room to retrieve me.
“What’s going on?” I ask in a hesitant tone.
His pewter stare doesn’t shake, and he says, “Lydia, it’s not what you think.”
“Are you in the mafia?” I whisper harshly, careful to keep my voice down. I don’t see how he can be and kept it a secret.
Talent drops his head back and sighs. “No, I’m not in the mafia. I told you my work gets me involved with some shit. This is the shit.”
“I don’t know … Talent, I don’t—”
He steps forward and captures my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him as he stands above me. “Do you trust me?”
My answer is absolute and without hesitation. “Yes.”
He sighs in relief and pulls me to my feet. “Good, because my dad wants to meet you.”
David Ridge looks like Al Pacino.
We’re already in a room full of gangsters. All that’s missing is the mountain of cocaine and the machine gun to complete this Scarface remake. Thankfully, we’re across the room from Giovanni Coppola and his family. Maybe I won’t have to worry about witnessing a gunfight.
Talent and I arrive at the table where Wilder