Page 95 of Steal My Heart
“Between you and me, it seems the mayor is holding a grudge over the election and my support of his rival,” I say conspiratorially. The chair of the Monarch Organization is the busiest busybody in all of the city, and this is the version I want spun.
Sheclicksher tongue. “What nonsense, Mr. Calvani. I’m more than happy to vouch for your character; why, your public service record speaks for itself!”
This woman knowsnothingof my true character, but I reply, “I appreciate that.”
“So you will be able to perform your duties, then? Are you out on bond?” The last question more fodder for her gossip.
“Absolutely, I plan on fulfilling my duties. And no, there was no bond; I wasn’t formally arrested.”
Shetsks. “Such nasty business, politics.”
“Indeed. While I’ve got you, I wanted to talk to you about adding an additional member to the Queen’s court this year.”
“Oh, Mr. Calvani, we couldn’t make any changes this close?—”
“And my $100,000 donation this year to the Monarch Organization’s scholarship fund.”
“Give me a sec,” she says, pretending to look up something. “Why, yes, I believe I can shift some things around. Who do you need in the court?”
“My sister, Alessandra Calvani.”
“I’ve got her down. If she could stop by the office for a fitting?—”
“I’ll send in her measurements and have someone pick up both our costumes.”
“Perfect,” she says in a tone indicating it’s less than perfect. “And thank you so much for your contribution to our scholarship fund. When should I anticipate this donation?” The mob world is cutthroat, but the world of nonprofits is a close second.
“My courier will drop it off when he picks up the costumes.”
“Wonderful. Thank you so much, Mr. Calvani.”
Ending the call, I move to the desk and pull my stationery and pen from the drawer.
Dear Mayor Morrissey,
I fear we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Please accept lunch for your entire office as a mea culpa. You’re welcome at The Boardroom any time. Here’s to NOLA’s prosperous four years under your stewardship.
~ Angelo Calvani
Counting out fifty thousand dollars from the kickups, I place the cash in one envelope and the letter in another, and call my GM atThe Boardroom.“I need lunch sent to the mayor’s office. I’ll have a courier drop off two envelopes that go along with it. Make sure the mayor receives the bag with the envelopes.”
Such nasty business, politics.
And it’s about to get a whole lot nastier.
Remi
“There you are.” Angelo tracks my movement across the study, patting the spot beside him.
“Sorry for the delay. I got…sidetracked.” I stare down Maks.
“Problem?” Angelo raises an eyebrow.
“I’m teaching Remi to swim,” Maks volunteers.
“Yeah, me,” I mutter.
Angelo approves with the slice of his head.
