I sprint off, pumping my arms and legs and head deeper into the park. Torino is right. Benjamin will hate that I'm out when it’s getting dark. He’s more protective of me than I ever thought possible. When he first approached me, I expected sex—nothing more than that, although I hoped. But what I’ve developed with him, the relationship I have is more than I ever imagined.
I’d been sleeping with men for money for over eight years before I met Benjamin. Within a week of being with him, he knew everything about my past—my mother, how she died, how I spent my youth and that I learned how to turn my life around. I still sell my body, but not to the scum on the corner who pay twenty bucks for a blowjob.
There was no love, no attachment other than necessities and orders, but he never knew or asked about my father. He had no reason to. My mother was an alcoholic hooker who only attempted to keep a regular job while I was in school. I suppose Benjamin assumes Daddy was a John—just another guy on the street. He was far from that. He lived the high life, enjoying his wealth and family while we scraped in gutters and froze through winters. And then, despite us managing somehow, before I was even old enough to leave school, she gave up on herself. And on me. I'd thought it couldn't get much worse. I was wrong, so fucking wrong.
She sent me out into the streets of New York and drank away her heartache, telling me to open my legs to bring money home. Her heartache was all because of Cane.
Her death certificate might have stated pneumonia and liver disease, but her broken heart was a wound that had infected her soul from the inside out for my entire life.
She blamed me for her life.
And I blame Cane.
Seven
Danelo stands in the corner of my apartment, his mouth reeling off numbers and information I should give a damn about. I don’t. For some reason, today, I don’t. Maybe it’s to do with having these Cane boys all over me. I went back to the office after dropping Quinn off at the docs, stormed in there with my blood riled up to all hell, ready to explode, and found Nathan calmly sitting at my desk on a laptop. He looked at me and handed it over, a white box displayed on the screen and nothing more.
“Enter a password,” he said. “Then it’s all yours again.”
“No back-end access?”
“There’s always back-end access.” He stood and offered me my own damn chair.“You’ll have to trust me not to get up in your ass.” Trust. It’s a word they use a lot. “And get rid of your chief operator. He’s been siphoning through channels you couldn’t see before.” Tony took care of that. Cleanly. Harshly.
He left after that with a nod as if he was saying you’re welcome. I don’t know why. I didn’t thank him for a goddamn thing. Maybe I should have, because the system he set up, the coding involved in it and the way he inputted algorithms—astute.
Now it’s a few days later, and we’re all over talking, discussing plans like we’re the allies they need. Maybe we are. Still, I don’t trust them.
My eyes stare into the bedroom, taking in the precise lines and opulence decorating them. It’s a far cry from the streets I walked the other day. My room back then was minimal, empty of anything but necessities. Father made me that way, kept my thinking sharp and severe. Nothing emotional. No attachments to anything but Tony and Sergio. They were the only things he said I could count on—them and him.
“Where’s Hope?” I call back to Tony, cutting through whatever he’s saying.
“Out running.”
I smile and look at the walk in, my feet carrying me to her end of it so I can run my fingers through her clothes. It smells of her perfume in here, the notes overriding my aftershave—strong, sweet scents with hints of cinnamon and lemongrass. Clothes, shoes, bags. Blacks and golds everywhere. Classy. It’s ordered neatly, arranged in a pattern so she can be efficient in the morning. My hand picks up the hem of one of her dresses, feeling the material in my fingers. It’s like silk, probably is silk. Why would she dress in anything less? I can’t even remember seeing her in a pair of jeans these last few years. Once, I think, back when I first found her and went knocking on her door unexpectedly. Cute.
“I’m going out,” I say, heading back into the lounge.
“Boss?”
“I need some time to think.”
“We need to check in with downtown. They're running the last of the brown out for Vegas tonight.” I look at him and pull my suit jacket on,buttoning it. It's an easy enough count out tonight. See the packages on board, and check the product out for the road.
“You all right on your own for that?” He frowns but nods at me. “You sure?”
“Yeah. It's just you're normally on it.”
Well, I've got other things I want to be on this evening.Inactually. I chuckle and walk towards the door, the echo of marble under my feet.
“I’ll call Luca to drive you—”
I check my watch. “No. I’ll walk. You wait here ‘til you need to go,” I cut in, spinning back to look at him. No one fucks with me these days, certainly not on the pristine streets where I live. A walk will do me good, clear my head. “Tell Hope to meet me at the library at five when she gets back.” That should give her enough time to change and get there and give me enough time to think. “And tell her it’s a date, Tony.” Both his brows rise. I’m not surprised. It’s not a word I use, nor particularly care for, but something about the goddamn Canes has got in my head. Messing with it. Their pretty wives and the harmony between them seems to be bringing shit home to me that I haven’t thought about before now. Or perhaps it’s those streets I was on the other day, memories.
He nods at me as I leave, efficient as always. There’s not a thing we’ve disagreed on over the years. Whether that’s by choice or not, I don’t know; he’s just always been there, right since we were kids. He’s good next to me. He has a killer’s instincts and a politician’s head, but both without the need to posture himself around others like I do. The world considers him nothing more than my second. He’s far more than that now I’m thinking about it. Always has been. He’s a friend. A confidante. Someone I've considered family in some ways.
I step out into the street and watch the light fading over the park. It’s getting nice in New York now, the lack of sunlight bringing my world a shade darker each day. I like it. It lets me sit in corners when I’m not on show, gazing at the inconsistencies that encroach on rationality each day. Fucking people and their endless woes, all of them wondering what the next day will bring. Carnage is what it will bring. Different levels of it maybe, but life isn’t a fair game for anyone. It’s all about risks and calculation, learning to use yourself effectively, slaughtering mass opinion as you do. People whine on about how their lives are ruled by the masses, how they haven’t got a choice. They’re right. They haven’t. Not unless they’re prepared to do the shit I’ve done to get above the masses they hate.
“Mr. Vico?” I look sideways at the doorman standing by the gold posts, his feet resting on red carpet. “Can I help you?”
