I straighten my shoulders and plaster a phony smile on my face.
Just keep faking it until you make it, Spinelli.
“Uncle Vic,” I say, smoothing a hand over my wrinkled jacket. I step around Joaquin and spread my arms wide. “To what do we owe the pleasure of this surprise?” I ask, pulling him into an embrace. I kiss one cheek then the other—a big fucking show of respect.
“You stink,” he sneers, pushing me away. His eyes narrow as he takes me in. “And where the hell is your fucking tie?”
There was a time in my life when words like that would have wounded me, but through the years I’ve learned to take my uncle’s criticism with a grain of salt. Nobody is good enough for him. I could be decked in Armani with a shiny Rolex on my wrist and he’d find a speck of lint on my collar.
“It’s around here somewhere,” I reply, flashing him a smile. “Let me fix you a drink,” I offer and quickly make my way to the rolling bar. My phone vibrates inside my pants again and I nearly knock over the crystal decanter. Behind me, my uncle mutters a curse before greeting Joaquin. As the two of them exchange pleasantries, I take a quick peek at my phone and shoot off a text to Violet.
Me: Can’t talk now. Are you okay?
Before she can respond to the text, my uncle clears his throat and I pocket the phone. I grab the glass of scotch and turn to face him.
“I wish you would’ve told me you were coming, Uncle Vic. I would’ve picked you up from the airport, or at the very least sent Joaquin for you.”
I extend the glass to him, but he doesn’t take it.
“Let’s cut the bullshit, okay, Rocco? I’ve been around a long fucking time and if you think for one second I don’t see right through you, you’re sadly mistaken.” The fake as shit smile falls from my face as his gaze cuts to Joaquin. “Joaquin, please see yourself out, I need to speak with my nephew in private.”
Well, shit.
Lifting the glass to my lips, I down the scotch myself. No reason to let a perfectly good drink go to waste, especially when it appears that my uncle is here to hand me my ass.
Joaquin looks at me and gives me a curt nod.
“I’m off. There’s something personal I need to tend to.” I want to believe he’s off to handle the Violet situation, but I’m sure that’s not the case.
“I’ll catch up with you later,” I say.
Once he’s gone, Uncle Vic rounds my desk and takes a seat in the leather armchair. It’s
another power play on his behalf and a move that reminds me who exactly is in charge around here.
Newsflash—it ain’t me.
“Sit,” he orders, pointing to the chair opposite of him. I’m not about to argue with the man, so
I do as I’m told and take a seat. Just as I park my ass in the chair, my phone vibrates again.
Fucking hell.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m here,” Uncle Vic starts, folding his hands on the
desk. Considering what transpired on the very spot, I should probably offer my dear uncle a Lysol wipe.
Shit. Where the fuck did I put that thong?
“The truth is, I had no intention of paying you a visit after that stint in New York two months ago,” he continues, and I forget all about the missing scrap of lace. Mildly confused, I draw my brows together.
“What are you talking about? I took care of things with Mitch just like you asked me to.”
He eyes me skeptically as he leans his back against the leather chair.
“Is that right?” he marvels. “Because I specifically remember ordering you to end that motherfucker if he didn’t have my money.” He cocks his head to the side, arching an eyebrow as he silently dares me to disagree.
Reaching behind me, I cup the back of my neck.
If this guy has taught me anything, it’s to admit to nothing.
Take it to your grave.
“He paid,” I say evenly.
Suddenly, he inches forward and slams his fist against the desk. I don’t flinch, I don’t even blink. I simply wait for him to tear me to shreds like I’ve witnessed him do to countless others. It doesn’t matter that I’m his nephew, no one gets a pardon in Victor Pastore’s kingdom.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Rocco,” he fires back. “There’s no fucking way that low-life piece of shit had fifty grand in his safe. For some odd reason, you’re protecting him, and I want to know why.”
“I’m not protecting anyone,” I argue. The lie slips past my lips so easily, I almost believe it myself.
Well, I’m not protecting Mitch, that’s for damn sure.
My mind instantly wanders back to Violet and I drag in a sharp breath, recalling the way she looked wearing my clothes. The way she sat on that bed and looked at me like I was something instead of nothing.
Two months—two fucking months have passed, and the girl is still fucking haunting me. Consuming every thought.
It’s wrong to think of her when I’m going to bed or when I’m with another woman, but it’s a catastrophic mistake to have her on my mind while discussing business with my uncle. It’s fucking criminal to have her be at the forefront of the lies I’m spewing to him too. But worst of all, it’s a sign of a weakness.
“I need to be able to trust you,” Uncle Vic sneers, his gray eyes narrowing into tiny slits as he curls his fists on top of the desk.
Though they are deserved, those words pack a punch and aren’t easily ignored. It’s not like he’s criticizing my clothes, he’s doubting my character. My loyalty. I may have had a temporary moment of weakness, but I’ve given this man my fucking life and all he’s done in return is put me down and tell me I’m not good enough. Another man might be able to shrug it off, but I don’t look at Victor Pastore and see a boss. I look at him and see the man who stepped up when my own piece of shit father failed me and my sister.
“If you don’t trust me by now then what the fuck am I doing here?” I ask hoarsely.
Considering my question, he looks down at his hands for a moment and I watch as he mindlessly runs his thumb over the plain gold band he wears on his left ring finger.
“This is a man’s world, Rocco. It’s ruthless and full of sin. Dark and deceitful. All those sins, every lie, it catches up to you in the end. Sometimes it’s you they catch, but other times it’s the people you love that get caught in the crossfire. The innocent bystanders you tried to protect. The ones you tried to love.”
His words are wise, but they don’t pertain to me. I don’t love anyone or anything. I don’t know what he thinks went down that night or what crazy story he’s concocted in his head, but what I did for Violet wasn’t an act of love. I did it as a favor to Joaquin. I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for him bailing me out of all the bad situations I’ve found myself in. Helping his sister and mother just put me on the board. A single tally under my name. That’s all. So what if my phone feels like it’s burning a hole in my pocket—it means nothing.
She means nothing.
“We all got secrets, nephew. Precious little things we want to keep hidden so that they are ours and only ours, but don’t for one second think any secret is safe. There is no such thing in our world. Our enemies live to uncover them. They prey on them and then they serve them to us when our number is up.”