anger.
“You’re right. He was bound to get himself in trouble. If not you, then someone else.” Vincent takes another drag of his cigarette and blows it off to the side. “Little prick had a mouth the size of Massachusetts.”
Stefano snaps his gaze toward Vincent. “Pop. He was family.”
Vincent waves his hand in dismissal. “My brother’s son. Half Irish.”
As I said, so much for family. I could’ve probably offered half the amount, and they’d have come up with a reason Franco wasn’t worth the retaliation.
“All I gotta say is, if that shipment ain’t at port tomorrow morning, all hell is gonna break loose.” Stefano has a funny way of going about negotiations, reminds me of a pitbull with a set of false teeth. If it wasn’t for his father’s leash, he’d have been put down already.
Hell isn’t going to break loose. Not when I’m already running the ship and the crew.
I push up from the table again and step aside to let Rand out. I’m sure the guy is about one breath away from a stroke, after this meeting. “I said I was crazy. I didn’t say I was stupid. We have a deal, gentlemen?” Stretching my hand toward him, I wait for Stefano to shake it. It’s Vincent who shakes my hand first, and Stefano reluctantly follows suit.
“Honesty is a rare, if not foolish, quality in a man, Lucian,” Vincent says.
“Isn’t that the fucking truth.”
“Master Blackthorne, I don’t know if you’re a genius, or if you’ve absolutely lost your mind.” Rand sits beside me, rubbing his forehead. “I’ve never felt the urge to throw up in a meeting in my whole life, until today.”
I snort a laugh, but as I stare out the window, my thoughts aren’t dwelling on the Scarpinatos. They’re wrapped around a nineteen-year-old, whose toned thighs have somehow squeezed every other thought out of my mind.
“I don’t even think your father, as bold as he could be, had the gumption to confess to killing a Scarpinato. He wouldn’t even think of it.”
My father allowed himself to amass what I call enemy debt. Too many favors that amount to too many potential enemies. “He was never much of a risk-taker.”
“You certainly have a more reckless approach to negotiations, but I admire your audacity.”
“Had I not confessed to killing Franco, they’d have come sniffing around eventually. You saw the accusation written all over their faces, when we first sat down. I could practically smell it on Stefano.”
“Pretty sure that was spaghetti sauce, boss.” Makaio chuckles from the front seat, and I can’t help but share his amusement. After all, it’s not every day a man gets to press the mafia’s buttons.
“Anyway, they now know I’m a man with nothing to hide.”
“Well, it’s certainly nice to know that I won’t have to sleep with a gun beneath my pillow.”
“Wait. You don’t usually sleep with a gun beneath your pillow?” Makaio frowns back at us from the rearview mirror. “Who doesn’t sleep with a gun beneath their pillow? I do. Do you, boss?”
“Always.”
Rand sneers and turns his gaze back toward the passenger window. “Well, I doubt either of you sleep wearing an undergarment for incontinence, so there’s that.”
Chapter 36
Lucian
Eight years ago …
I gulp back the entire glass of champagne and signal the waiter for another, while my buddy, Sebastian, does his best to piece together a shit best man speech. The only time he’s ever met the bride was at my graduation party, when she snubbed him, so I’ve gotta give him some credit for not making her out to look like a total bitch.
“And I wish you a long and happy life together. Cheers.”
With his official toast, I polish off my fourth glass. At this rate, I’ll be too trashed for the first dance. Maybe someone else will fill my place for it.
I catch sight of my father, standing off with Mayor Boyd, both of them laughing. It makes sense why Boyd would be delighted, marrying into power and wealth, but I haven’t quite figured out the payoff for my father, aside from strapping me down with domesticated life. Perhaps that’s the only payoff, but I’ve known my father long enough to recognize he doesn’t do anything that isn’t wholly for his own gain.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Amelia sits beside me, not having said much for most of the night, aside from the templated vows the two of us memorized this morning. “Your mother did such a nice job planning everything.”
There’s a dash of animosity in her tone, though subtle,