Page 75 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

Seamus shrugs. “He seems interested in parties and avenues of income. Interestingly not with the bratva. He’s into the Italians.”

I narrow my eyes. “Any meetings in Bayside?”

“Not that Clancy’s heard. He knows of de Rosa.”

“Means nothing, anyone who’s anyone has heard of that guy.” I know it all means something, but apart from Paddy wanting to cause trouble, which would be pretty fucking stupid, I don’t get it. This is not neutral territory. I don’t play in the Russians’ backyard unless there’s a deal. They don’t play in mine unless there’s a deal. And that goes for the Italians, some of the Polish, and the cartels.

No one wants an out-and-out war.

New York’s a big enough, deep enough field for factions to work together, for territories to work symbiotically and alone.

There are scuffles, and me coming in to build a bigger name, a bigger empire is fine. Because I’m doing it right.

But what about de Rosa’s real deal?

I don’t trust a man who keeps testing to see how far he can push. And I want to see his real agenda.

Lucie.

Does it rest on her? The replacement sister?

I don’t know.

And how the fuck long does it take a girl to go to the bathroom?

With a sigh, I stand up and head back to the bathrooms. I wait outside the door, giving the woman who comes up a dark look. She backs away and scoots inside the men’s room.

They’re single-stall rooms, nice enough, I guess, if public restrooms float your boat.

The door clicks and starts to open. I straighten and push my way in, locking it behind me.

I take one look. “What the fuck, Lucie Joy?”

The savage tone belies the part of me that wants to wrap her tight and hold her in soft blankets, to keep her safe and secure.

She doesn’t look at me. “Can we go? I’m worried?—”

“About the dog?” My heart lifts that he’s still at our house. “He’s fine. Why have you been crying?”

“I haven’t. I’m angry.” She shoves me into the door and hits me. “You could have died and you’re playing around with guns. Both you and Seamus look like you were in an explosion, you’re bruised and there are scrapes on your hands and knees.”

Ah shit, I’m wearing basketball shorts so she can seemy knees. “I’m fine.”

She shoves me again. “Seamus is limping. I’m scared. I… this doesn’t happen to Dad. Just around you.”

“You know how this world works,” I say. “It’s a dangerous one.”

“You like the danger.”

I don’t deny that. But I pick my next words carefully. “It’s part of the job when you do it right.”

“Dad…” She looks up at me. “Did my father do that, or was it one of the guys in his crew?”

“Would he?”

She lets out a frustrated sigh and throws her hands in the air. “I don’t know. The only things I know are what I’ve heard and seen. The people who’ve come and gone from our house over the years haven’t exactly been stand-up citizens.” Then her face darkens and she pushes me again. “Now stop. You’re deflecting.”

“That’s one hit and three pushes more than anyone ever gets. I think that calls for payment,” I say. “Don’t you?”

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