Are you kidding me?
From across the table, my mother shrieks a really shrill and giddy sound, and all heads snap to her. A wide smile overtakes her face as she holds her hands together in front of her. Excitedly she bursts, “Oh my goodness, isn’t that so sweet!”
August chuckles as he and Joseph round the table to take the two empty chairs next to Sam.
“So, Joseph, what was it that you had to tell me?” my father asks when Joseph settles, without looking up from his menu.
Joseph scoffs, and I do my best to pretend like I’m studying my meal choices when I’m really listening intently.
“I think this is a conversation best kept private, Father.”
“I trust all those in the room right now, do you not?”
“Of course, I do,” Joseph snaps, though I know him well enough to hear the outright lie in his voice. He doesn’t trust anyone but himself.
“Well then,” Father urges, his voice flat. He waves his hand dismissively over his menu.
No sooner do the words leave his lips, does the waitress reappear. Time moves painfully slow as she attentively comes to each of us, taking our orders and confirming that we have everything we need for the time being. When she leaves again, Joseph surprises me by picking up where his and Father’s conversation left off.
“That Lucchetti trash has been sniffing around again. My guy at the docks reported him showing up on the surveillance cameras two days in a row, after hours.”
Heart sinking, my eyes bounce from Joseph to our father. The expression on Father’s face is hardened, and he stays silent as though he’s waiting for my brother to say more. When he doesn’t, he gruffly asks, “And?”
For the quickest of seconds, Joseph's face falls, but he quickly returns it to his typical menacing scowl. “And he’s a piece of shit who’s sniffing around our territory looking forsomething.”
“Which Lucchetti?”
“Lorenzo. Gabriele’s son. You should just let me eliminate the problem like you did with his father—we can easily take care of it swiftly and unsuspectingly.”
A small, shaky breath escapes my lungs when I hear the name Lorenzo.
They’re not talking about Sly.
I shouldn’t care.
“We cannot eliminate a problem that doesn’t exist,” my father snaps.
Joseph argues back like a five-year-old. “But he’s?—”
“He was caught on the cameras twice. Presumably, sniffing around a dead end because there is nothing he could have found. It is not your job to monitor the docks, Joseph. Whoever your informant is, tell him his job withyouis done, or I will find out who he is and see to it that hisactualjob is over.”
A tense thickness clouds us as my father’s irritation hangs in the air. We all stay silent as he and Joseph stare at each other, awkwardly watching my brother attempt to assert his dominance and challenge our father.
He should know he’ll never win.
Coming to his aid, August clears his throat, taking a small sip of his ice water and directing the conversation toward my mother. “So, Leighton. My aunt was asking if you’d be attending the Gallagher luncheon next month?”
I stop listening, because truly, I couldn’t care less. Pulling my phone out, I scroll through the messages and see one from Raina. As my eyes skim the words, a smile pulls at my lips.
Raina
This isn’t the same without you. Why did you decide that your job was more important than me again? Surely you’re regretting your choices. We could be sipping coffee in a cafe on Rue Des Martyrs right now.
She’s right, and I hate that she’s right. This is the first year of many that I haven’t gone with her to Paris for Fashion Week.
Trust me, I regret the decision. Miss you.
Her response comes immediately.
