“Getting your rocks off via the internet,” Vito sighs, shaking his head ruefully. “Hell of a time we live in.”
Nico shakes his head. “Dad apparently has never heard of Tinder.”
“Wanna bet?”
Even my brothers blanch this time, gagging as they laugh. Vito and his wife, Giada Barone, were never exactly a normal couple. They were either at each other’s throats, or in bed with each other—or, more frequently, in other people’s beds. I honestly don’t need to know the specifics of their relationship at all.
But given all that, Giada was pretty frequently out of the picture, sometimes for months on end. When I say Vito raised Claudia, Dante, and I alongside his sons, I really do mean that Vito did. I loved Giada, and of course I mourned when she died six years ago. But she and I were not nearly as close as I am with my dad.
Vito laughs, waving us all off before patting his chest. “Hey, I’m old, not dead. And if there’s still lead in the pencil—”
“Jesus Christ, Pop,” Nico makes a gagging face. “Let’s never mention the fucking lead in your pencil ever again, yeah?”
“Amen to that, fuck,” Carmy mutters. He runs his hand over the scruff on his jaw before he turns to our dad again. “By the way, I got the updated financials from Ares’ team last night for the West Side development.”
Vito nods slowly. “We still good there?”
“Golden. Projections changed a little, but not significantly. If you’re still sure you want to sell, Ares is still in for the agreed-upon amount.”
The development they’re talking about is an old, unused, fifteen-story building on the West Side of Manhattan, projecting over the Hudson River. Dad picked it up for a bargain over ten years ago, though he never developed it. But since then, the value has skyrocketed. And when Vito made it known he’d be entertaining offers, they poured in.
For the last few months, there’s been a crazy bidding war between the Drakos family, who are Greek mafia, and Davit Kirakosian, the head of an Albanian crime family. But recently, the Drakos family aggressively upped their offer, ending the Albanian’s interest.
The Drakos’ plans for the property apparently include a luxury boutique hotel, high-end condos, retail, and a restaurant space. So yeah, long term, yeah, the property is going to be worth a fuck of a lot more than it is now. But that’s after the upfront costs, the years it’s going to take to build, and all those expenses. Not to mention the headache of running the place once it’s up. To Dad, taking a gigantic lump sum right now instead of dealing with all that b.s. looked like a better option. Plus, Ares is okay with letting the same local ironworkers union who was working on it continue to do so. Which makes dad look like a superhero.
It’s a total win win. Which is surprising, given that our dad actually hates—
“That fuckin’ family,” Vito grumps. “I’m telling you, the second that check clears, that’s the last time I wanna talk to or even see a single one of those fuckin’ barbarians.” He sighs. “Anyway, I gotta get my ass to the office.”
“Same,” Dante sighs. He turns to catch my eye. “You sticking around here for a while?”
“Eh, I should head home soon and get some stuff done before heading to the theater.”
“You ready now? I can give you a ride if you want.”
I grin. “That’d be perfect, thanks.”
I say goodbye to my dad, Carmy and Nico, get my stuff, then follow Dante outside to his Range Rover. After I climb into the passenger seat, he frowns as he turns to me.
“What?”
“You wanna tell me why you slept over at Vito’s last night?”
It’s a weird quirk between us. I call him “Dad” because Vito is the only father I ever really knew. But Dante was fifteen when our parents died. He still loves Vito like a father. But he already knew another man way too well as “Dad” ever to call Vito that.
I get it.
I find myself shrinking a little from his question. Putting walls up, as if hiding guilt. Dante and I are close. But I don’t think I’m ready to tell him what actually happened last night.
Once again, weirdly, my thoughts don’t focus on the danger and the horror of last night. Instead, they settle on the faceless beast with the neon eyes and mouth. The enormous monster who killed two men right in front of me, put his hands around my throat, and sent a spark of something vicious deep into my core. A masked man who then proceeded to run rampant through my dreams last night—
“I had a hard day.”
I mean, it’s not a total lie.
“I guess I was just homesick?”
Dante’s brows knit as he slowly nods. “And the bruises?”
“I already told you: happened at work.”
“You don’t usually get banged up like that, though.”
I roll my eyes, huffing loudly to cover the panic in my chest. “Well, I didn’t expect I’d be facing the Spanish Inquisition.”
“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” he grins, quoting the Monty Python movie we’ve both seen a gazillion times.
“Actually, common misconception. Everyone expected the Spanish Inquisition. They used to send notices months in advance before someone was questioned.”
“Amazing. You do read more than just those creepy true crime books.”
“Ha ha ha,” I toss back dryly.
Dante turns to grin at me before a shadow crosses his face. “Hey—speaking of which, do me a favor.”
My brow arches. “Okayyy?”
“No going out late by yourself right now.”
