Page 61 of Burn this City

“Doesn’t suit you,” Andrea stated bluntly. “Good that the kids aren’t around with you looking like that.”

“Believe me, I feel stupid enough.” He angled his body to present the better side to Andrea as if he had something to hide. “What’s up?”

“Well, good you’re back. Did you deal with whatever you had to deal with?”

“Yes, all done.” He leaned back when the maid showed up with a warm croissant and coffee. He waited until she was gone, then took a sip. Andrea, being at home, rarely bothered to get dressed. He’d thrown on a track suit, though he didn’t work out until later in the afternoon. Petra dressed him, but left to his own devices, Andrea reverted to bachelor comfort. That alone told Jack that Petra wasn’t around, or she’d have pressured Andrea at least into some kind of designer jeans and a T-shirt.

“Does that include sorting out your situation?”

“My …” Of course, he’d barely thought of anything else, but he had to make it look casual. “Oh, you mean getting married. Yes, I’ve brought it up with my girlfriend.”

Andrea regarded him with raised eyebrows. “You never mentioned her.”

“She’s an outsider,” Jack murmured. “She thinks I’m consulting for your companies, and for the foreseeable future, that’s exactly as it should be. I’m not quite as lucky as you are.”

Oh, Andrea liked that, based on how he leaned back smugly. “Yeah, my wife’s special. So, what’s the timing on the wedding?”

“First, we’re engaged. Wedding next May.”

Andrea’s gaze went to the coffee cup that Jack was lifting. “She happy with the ring?”

“Thrilled. Two-carat solitaire in platinum.”

“Good work. Petra will be happy. You have to bring her around so we can get to know her. It’ll be important to Petra.”

“I appreciate that.”

“What’s her name? Tell me about her?”

“Ah, she’s a good girl. Popping the question came as a surprise. For some reason, Beth thought I had commitment issues.” Using Beth’s name felt much more natural than any other name he’d rolled around on his tongue. It was also the only women’s name that he knew he’d respond to if Andrea or anybody else spoke it around him, and quick, natural responses would be important, especially if he was otherwise distracted.

“Trust me, wives like a husband who is married to his job. Petra likes a lot of time to herself, at least.”

Jack didn’t detect any emotional disturbance, so Petra’s absence wasn’t anything special. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Off to some yoga retreat out of state. I couldn’t give less of a fuck about all the chakra shit, but at least the yoga makes her so I can bend her whichever way I want.” Andrea took a bite from his croissant. “Here’s an idea for you: your Betty and her can go do that stuff together. Bond some, you know.”

“I think Beth would love that.” He wasn’t going to rise to that wrong name—he didn’t think Andrea was testing him, just that he literally didn’t give enough of a fuck about any future wife’s name or personality, as long as her presence meant that Jack was no longer suspicious.

He took his time eating the croissant while Andrea seemed to consider several things. But the fact that he seemed extremely comfortable in his skin and relaxed was reassuring. It didn’t mean that Andrea’s next words wouldn’t be stupid or rash, but whatever he said next wouldn’t come from a place of rage at least. In some ways Jack could never relax. Not even now. Especially not now, knowing either Sal Rausa or Andrea wouldn’t live to see next month. Or even next week.

“There’s going to be a party in the club tonight. Upstairs. Might be a good idea for you to show up. Also …” Andrea cast him a sly smile. “It’s not exactly stuff for fiancées or wives. A couple business friends, and plenty of girls.”

Jack’s stomach dropped. “Business friends?”

“Entertaining some guys who’ll invest in that venture I’m working on.” Ah, yes, Andrea had mentioned he was going to “befriend” some legit businessmen and convince them to put up some cash for the modernization of the Lo Cascio controlled docks. Andrea had always hemmed and hawed about putting up all the money himself; he preferred to have others pay for these things and then take a disproportionate slice of the cake. All business as usual. “I could use your head there.”

Which meant he had to attend—to rein Andrea back in if necessary, but also to show his face so he could manage the business relationship. Speaking of which. “You sure I should show up looking like this?”

Andrea waved his concern away and laughed. “Oh sure. Tell them a pro boxer caught you wrong in sparring. Say you told him not to go easy on you. You’re good at serving up the bullshit.”

Now that he was married and settled, Andrea’s parties rarely happened at his estate; he usually used one of their clubs and kept the alcohol flowing for everybody.

“Sure, I’ll be there.”

“Starts at ten. Entertainment is arranged.”

“Understood.”

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