Callumshakesthehandof Giovanni Sorrentino, fake smile plastered on his lips. He’s always been a good bluffer, and his acting skills are definitely to credit. The man can make you think he’s your best friend, all the while stabbing you in the chest with that dark smile.
“The Southies are in New York,” Sorrentino says, a hint of venom in his fake cheery voice.
And I know he’s just as good as Callum. Two heads of separate mafia syndicates sit across from each other. Both are hoping for an agreement with the other for different reasons, yet both enemies.
“We are. We’ve come to discuss some family business,” Cal says.
Both men sit on opposite ends of the dining table inside of a small restaurant in neutral territory. Foot soldiers from the Irish faction in New York litter the building both inside and out, and my heart pounds in my chest because the stress of this entire day is catching up to me. Haley and Saoirse are currently with Rian, Scotty and Cillian, loading up her things into a U-haul truck. And I’m the only one who knows what she’s done to me.
Luckily I didn’t have to see her today, and I won’t until we’re all loaded up on the plane. All I have to do right now is sit here while Callum does the talking. My gaze falls to the gold band on my left ring finger. Sorrentino doesn’t miss it either, a flash of anger in his eyes that he masks quickly.
“What family business would bring you here demanding a meeting with one of the five bosses of La Cosa Nostra?” Sorrentino asks.
“Your pregnant daughter,” Callum says. He smiles at the waitress who’s setting a pot of coffee in the center of our table.
Sorrentino stiffens. “Yes. Camille is pregnant.” His eyes flit to me. “She’s also unwed, and refuses to tell me who the father is.” The death look he shoots my way is tell enough for his lie.
“Paddy and Camille shared an evening together back at the wedding we attended months ago.” Callum pours coffee into one of the mugs and takes a sip. “A paternity test was taken and he’s the father. Which is particularly messy considering my brother’s been married for two years.”
Sorrentino’s mouth drops. “No word has ever made it to us.”
“It was a quiet ceremony. Paddy and Michael didn’t want it announced and we respected their wishes.”
Sorrentino nods. “You mean you didn’t want to announce that your brother married a man.”
“I didn’t want to announce it,” I say. “I wanted my husband to be protected from this side of my life.”
The silence that takes the room for several minutes is agonizing. I wish I could be anywhere but here, under the careful stare of Giovanni Sorrentino. He’s calculating his response, and what exactly it means for him.
“And just how do we fix this mess?” Giovanni asks. “Your brother has ruined the reputation of my daughter and isn’t able to marry her.”
“Camille will be taken care of,” Callum says. “She’ll have her own home in Boston, a large allowance and will be able to come and go as she pleases. She can even marry for love if she pleases.”
I force the nausea down, trying to remain stone-faced. Callum can’t know how uneasy this is making me. If I could, I’d leave the table and wait outside. I don’t smoke, like Callum does, but I fucking need one right about now. Anything to take the edge off.
“And what about our families?” Sorrentino asks. “This is a huge burden for us. We’re about to be related by blood and I’ll have nothing to show for it.”
The patience in me snaps. This greedy mother fucker is only trying to make sure he gets what he wants from this arrangement. He doesn’t care about his daughter, or what she’s done. The only thing he sees is a child that’s giving him a paycheck. And like pieces of the puzzle that comes together, the full picture settles in my mind.
An image of a savage father putting his daughter up to something as disgusting as this. This is no family. Blood doesn’t come first for him the way it does for Cal and me. My skin crawls with this knowledge, and suddenly I feel so dirty.
Camille hurting me, hurting my husband. Hell, at this point I wouldn’t be surprised if she hurt our son. All of the possibilities spiraling lead to one thing. Her father need ing to die.
Slamming my fist onto the tabletop of the booth, my brother reaches for the collar of his suit jacket. Both of the Irish and Italian men in the corner tense, readying themselves for a fight. Hands are placed on the guns at their hips.
They don’t matter. Not when this piece of shit is still breathing. “I’ll kill you.” I snarl, my top lip scrunching with the immense disgust that courses through me.
Callum’s hand rests on my shoulder, a gentle reminder that he’s here to support me. “Paddy. It’s okay, brother. We’re going to fix this.”
His words mean nothing. I refuse to let go of Giovanni. “You don’t even know what there is to fix, Callum,” I say.
The outcome of my confession plays in my mind. If I admit out loud what’s been done, Giovanni will know we’re onto Camille. He won’t let her come to Boston with us. And that has to happen. I won’t let my child be held hostage and used against me. The baby comes first, even before this rage burning through me.
“Let him go.” Callum’s voice is soothing to the constant inferno burning inside of me.
I release Giovanni, chest still humming, still on edge. How do I cover up my outburst? “My apologies.” I straight out my tie, trying to bring down my level of emotions. “I don’t take kindly to threats. And it felt as though you’re attempting to use my child against me.”
Sorrentino is happy with that answer, nodding curtly. “It’s fine, son.” He turns to Callum. “Let’s discuss what this means for our families.”
