“You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
“I’m still not …” Jack sat up and blinked a few times, clearly trying to focus. “I just want you. The past couple weeks, I had time to think about it, look at other men, ponder … think what I want out of life. Whether I could get back into the closet, shut myself down again, and I’m not interested in other men. I don’t know why. I can see they’re attractive, but I don’t want to have sex with them.”
“Okay.” If Jack was only interested in him, that worked for Sal too. He could be happily exclusive.
“It’s specifically … connected to you. I see you and I want to touch you and kiss you. I see some other man, even an attractive one, and there’s no spark. Maybe because I think I’m falling in love with you, and it doesn’t scare me. It could be that simple.”
The second time that night Jack had used the “l” word, if in a circumspect way. Again, it jolted Sal down to the bones, but not unpleasantly. They’d agreed to try a relationship without even saying the word, talked about rings, and Sal had offered everything he had to offer even before that. It now hung between them, and saying it out loud was really only a formality.
In every way that counted, Jack was special, and none of this felt like a hook-up, or an affair, or a friend with benefits. There was a deeper, wider, richer aspect to all of it, much more encompassing. He also appreciated that Jack told him this with his utter honesty that held no demands or neediness. There was something to be said for falling for a guy who was so secure in himself. And Jack also wasn’t the type to blurt out “I love you” while overwhelmed by an orgasm. No, if he said it, he meant it.
Sal scooted back onto the bed, grabbed Jack’s neck and kissed him. “I love you too, Jack.” They hugged tightly, caressing and kissing, a small world unto themselves. For the first time in what felt like forever, Sal let go and drifted in tenderness, soaking up as much of it as possible.
47
Jack sat in the Hunting Lodge’s bar, flicking through the links Sal had sent him. Apparently he’d collected images from various sources and had created a “mood board”, which seemed to be what architects worked from now rather than detailed specifications.
Jack tended to buy houses as they stood and make changes to them afterward, but Sal had found a plot of land he liked—close enough to reach the center in twenty minutes, but still surrounded by greenery and virgin forest. Jack was sure nobody received new building permissions in that stretch of land, otherwise the city’s tech and start-up hipster millionaires would have already turned it into their playground. But Sal had secured a plot somehow. Maybe from an associate, or he’d held it in reserve, or the Prizzi had something to do with it. In any case, the old buildings on it were already being pulled down and new construction began in earnest in spring.
The “mood board” made Jack smile. Sal wasn’t the type to ask his opinion about every little thing, but as he flicked through the images, he had to admit the architects had managed to make the house look like an organic whole, rather than a study in contrasts ripped from a hundred Pinterest boards. The mock-up images included shots of large windows opening out into the forest, and plenty of natural textures, wood grains in multiple colors, marble and sandstone tiles, natural rock walls, granite paving outside. It almost looked like a slightly different take on his own house up in the hills, except it also the more minimalist and enclosed spaces that Sal seemed to prefer. It would have a basement with a dedicated play area, and Jack wondered what the architects had made of the generous, well-lit and sound-proofed space.
A separate wing, housing a gym and indoor pool, could also be used for entertaining and had enough space for visitors. The other wing of the house was a totally independent living area and so closely matched Jack’s preferences for open lines of sight that he felt right at home there even though it didn’t exist yet.
A few weeks prior, Sal had told him to meet with Beth so she’d stop worrying about Jack, and he’d kept nagging until Jack had arranged lunch with her in a private restaurant back room. Beth had seemed happy to see them both, and Jack had bit his lips a few times as Sal lied so effortlessly and charmingly to her. She was doing well in her classes to train as an electrician, and after they’d parted, she’d texted him:“Keeper!!!”When Jack had shown him the message, Sal had laughed warmly, flattered.
Jack noticed people walk into the bar and pressed the button to switch off the tablet.
Cassaro and Guy Dommarco himself filed into the room, as well as a couple of guys for security reasons. They fell back and remained at the entrance, while Cassaro and the Dommarco boss continued onward. Jack stood and smiled.
“Jack. So good to see you. I was worried.” Cassaro sounded genuine enough, though the worry likely included a whole lot more than Jack’s survival.
“It’s been an interesting time. Let’s hope the rest of winter is quieter. Do you want to join me for a drink?”
Cassaro nodded, walked back to Dommarco, said something so low in his ear that Jack didn’t catch it, then Dommarco stepped close and shook Jack’s hand. “You would have been missed, Barsanti.”
“Thank you, sir. I hope you’re well?”
Guy Dommarco slid into the booth opposite Jack, and Cassaro came back from the bar a few moments later and sat on a chair. “Now, tell me what I should expect in there.”
Jack won a few seconds of time while the server brought drinks and olives and then vanished to the far end of the room to tidy the spotless bar. “Well, I believe Sal Rausa will negotiate about his future business interest in Port Francis, as they pertain to his family and yours. Nature abhors a vacuum, and we all know there have been some significant changes.”
Cassarohmmmed. “What’s your position now?”
I’m literally in bed with the enemy, and positions remain interesting.Jack shrugged with a sigh. “Well, after the hostile merger, I’ve wound down the other business interests of the Lo Cascio. Mr. Rausa has driven a pretty hard bargain, but I also think he realizes that he’s unlikely to encounter any meaningful hostilities from that direction.”
“What about Vic Decesare?” Cassaro speared an olive.
Sal’s face had darkened when Jack had conveyed what he’d learned. After some deep soul-searching, he’d decided to let the natural killer do the work, but not out of a sense of mercy. “No longer a player,” Jack said as neutrally as he could. “Cancer’s a bastard.” And both men nodded solemnly at that.
The situation with the real killer had been different. The last thing Jack had heard was that he’d committed suicide in prison, helped along by an obliging cell mate whose girlfriend desperately needed help with a loan to keep a roof over her head. With all of that resolved, Sal had then focused on reorganizing his family, as well as those pieces of the Lo Cascio businesses that complemented his interests. They’d spent several days discussing what the Dommarco might offer in return for another peace agreement, and how to sell them the new deal.
Jack turned up his hands on the table briefly and shrugged again. “That’s the current state of things. From what I’m catching, Mr. Rausa has no interest in being the only player in town. The actions against Andrea were due to a personal grudge. I didn’t know Andrea had his wife murdered, so …”
“Yeah, I heard a rumor about that. It did seem too conveniently timed.” A rumor from Cassaro was gospel truth. “Well, Jack, thanks for giving us the lay of the land. That’s helpful.”
“Any time. I’m just going to … you know,” he dropped a hand on the tablet next to him and gave another sigh, “count my blessings.”
“Indeed”, Guy Dommarco said and rose again. “We’re lucky we don’t have the city swarming with Feds. Let’s keep it that way.”