Page 24 of Cara
Eighteen months late, his confession strikes me like a freight train, barreling straight into my chest.
I heave, losing my goddamn mind.
Xavier
The extensive grounds of the Marcello estate are obscured by rows of wired string lights, bathing the guests in a cream glow. Although there are multiple tents to draw in the crowds, most of New York’s elite are on the dance floor, coaxed in by the animated singer on stage.
Roses have been gathered for the occasion and arranged on every table. My mother basks in the attention she receives from caring for her gardens, and I find comfort in seeing her enjoy herself without my father’s presence weighing her down.
Tonight, we must be the epitome of opulence.
Grace.
Old money.
All these people dining on three-course meals and sipping French champagne must forget how many rumored deaths this family is linked to. This grand event, celebrating the merging of Marin’s life work with my father’s, is sufficient to give me sole control of the dockyards—the harbor itself. It’s enough to secure warehouses for the training of new recruits.
The money poured into this single night is well worth the business deals that will come out of it.
“Whata night!” The senator lowers into the seat beside mine, paying no mind to the three men barricading my back. “What a turnout.”
“Thank you for coming, Senator. It’s appreciated.”
He snatches up his scotch. In silence, I watch him berate one of the servers. Somehow, it’s her fault that his ice melted in this summer heat. Falling in line, as anyone would do around someone with so much authority, she hurries off to fetch him another.
Drunk off his ass, he’s unaware of how closely I've been studying him, strategically noting how his wedding ring’s been tucked safely into his breast pocket, how his perverse gaze has been continuously wandering to a young woman on the dance floor since he arrived.
Via. One of my cousins.
With a sigh of disappointment, he recalls our last conversation. “Your father was a remarkable businessman, but our past had complexities. When I saw how you increased your wealth over the past year, I admit, I was goddamn impressed.”
“Grazie.”
Deep down, he knowspreciselyhow I expanded our empire. It’s why his eyes divert, unable to hold my gaze for too long. The blood, sweat, and tears—the absolute horrors—it takes to win a war amongst the most powerful houses in the city is something he couldn’t begin to fathom. The global hub is practically mine. Only Staten Island is holding out. Chicago is primed for an all-out siege. Within a year, we seized control. After eighteen months, we positioned our people across the city. In the media, on television. We’ve infiltrated Wall Street, the export sector, the police force, and now… the government.
The senator props his arm on the linen tablecloth, blinking lazily, the edge of his tuxedo sleeve dipping into a steaming bowl of zuppa di vongole. “I thought we could continue our conversation.”
He’s an absolute mess. “We’ve already gone through this at length, Senator. I require forty percent of the earnings.”
“Forty percent is outrageous.”
“It’s my price.” I settle back, a chilled bourbon resting on my knee. “My hand of associates will extend to you. You will gain access to new routes. You’ll beableto afford to offer me forty percent.”
“And if I choose not to take you up on this?”
My lips remain sealed until the two men at the opposite end of the table take their cue to leave, standing to join their women on the dance floor. “The port is under my control, Senator. Any deal to bring goods in will eventually end up on my desk, so I think you should save yourself the trouble and agree with me.”
The brown soup has stained his white tuxedo. He combs back his streaked hair in frustration. Silence is clearly the key to unnerving him. The prospect that he’s the one in need of this relationship more is something he’s not used to.
“Xavier.”
At the use of my first name, my eyes lift.
The practiced indifference that comes to me like routine fades with just one glance at the woman who raised my wife. Not her birth mother.Courtney.
Soldiers appear at her sides to prevent her from approaching, but I raise a hand, offering a contrite smile to my companion, choosing to let this desired deal wait another day. “I’m sorry, Senator. This is important.”
“But Marcello?—”
