“Not that he’d ever admit it.” Levi grins.
I can’t help but smile ruefully. “But the men he keeps around—Nario, his other lieutenants—they’re not so tight-lipped. I remember Nario telling me about the time the Russians stole three crates of a fifty-crate shipment. Three crates … a thing like that, today, he’d just let that go. Back then, he walked right into the Russian bar—alone, with only a fucking pocketknife for a weapon—and demanded to speak with the Bratva boss. When the man came out, he told him straight up to return the crates or there’d be war. Just like that. Now here was this Russian mob boss, this old grizzly bear-looking motherfucker, looking down at this twenty-five-year-old kid. And what did he do? He returned those damn crates.”
“I remember that story. Carlo made a deal with him,” Levi says, nodding. “They worked together for years. You have to give it to him, Angelo—he has an eye for business.”
“I have never denied that,” I say. “It was his idea to start selling this shit to the partiers. And look where it’s gotten us. We’re richer than God. But that’s the problem, Levi. Being rich has made him comfortable, and being comfortable has made him weak. What happens when a man as hungry as Father used to be decides that he wants what is ours? Will we be ready?”
We sit back, pondering it silently for a little while. A few of our men come into the club and take some of the bottle girls to a booth in the corner. We raise our glasses to each other. I have to remember that, for some men, these bottle girls are the highlight of their week, the hope that keeps them going through endless tribute collections and boring errands for the Family. They’re the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow. Normally, it’s a feeling I share. But tonight, I have no taste for it.
The memory of Dani sucking on my fingers shoots through my head once, like lightning, then is gone again.
Levi turns to me. “A power play against Carlo is foolish,” he says firmly.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“But there might be another way. You don’t want to get married for real. I of all people understand that. There’s way too much good pussy roaming untended around these parts to lock one down permanently. But what if we found a woman who could play the role?”
“Play the role, how …” I narrow my eyes when it hits me. “Wait a second. You mean hire a fake wife?”
Levi nods slowly. “It’s not as ridiculous as it sounds. Carlo just wants to believe that you’re becoming a family man. Settling down like he did. So make him believe that. When he does, he’ll start giving you more responsibility, and when you handle it well, he’ll have no choice but to admit you’re don material.”
“You have lost your mind.”
“Have I?” Levi laughs. “Or am I a fucking genius?”
I’m smiling. I can’t help it. It’s just the sort of plan that Levi would come up with, like the time when we were kids and he suggested we set up a lemonade stand, only at the bottom of each glass of lemonade there was a piece of jewelry we’d stolen from the store right across the street. Family men came from far and wide when they heard about it, laughing as they bought our glasses of lemonade.
“You’re warming to it,” Levi notes. “I can tell.”
“Maybe,” I admit. “But who would we use?”
My thoughts stray to Dani. But I shut them down. Dani wouldn’t work for this. We need a woman who is pliable and would not challenge me, but at the same time able to give the appearance of being fierce. But Dani has equal bite to her bark. She is authentically fire. Come too close and get burned. A man can’t control a woman like her, and control, in my business, is the most important thing.
Laughing, Levi waves at the dance floor. “There are dozens of women in this club alone who would gladly take the position.” Before I can stop him, he gestures and four bottle girls come walking over to the booth. Levi nods and the guard lets them pass. “Ah, good evening, angels.”
They’re all wearing dresses that show far more than they cover up. They’re all looking at us like, at the drop of a hat, we were more than welcome to take them upstairs and screw their brains out. Which is exactly the case, because they’re paid well for their services. Two immediately slide down next to Levi and the other two wriggle next to me.
“Evening, handsome,” a blonde woman with dark eye makeup says. She makes to put her hand on my chest. When I subtly shake my head, she starts toying with the hem of her dress instead. “I’m Felicity. It’s a pleasure to meet you. This is Cassidy.”
I nod politely. “Good evening.”
Felicity giggles for apparently no reason, and then leans in and whispers into my ear: “You’re really hot. I don’t want to sound like one of those girls, but can I just not be a bottle girl for a little while? We can just, you know, hang out. I don’t want anything in return.”
“As tempting as that is,” I say—which is not true; it’s not tempting at all—“I’ll have to decline. Pressing business. Please excuse me.”
I stand up and skirt around them, walking to the edge of the booth.
“Angelo, what the fuck?” Levi laughs incredulously.
“I need to take a leak,” I lie. “But don’t let me stop you.”
With a shrug, Levi turns to the four women. He plasters a grin on his face and lifts his arms out wide. “Looks like it’s your lucky night. You’ve got me all to yourself!”
I can’t help but laugh as I walk through the club, heading to the upstairs office. Levi is a fierce fighter, a brilliant tactician, a shrewd businessman, but he is as susceptible to the temptations of the club as anybody. He is crazy if he thinks a bottle girl would make a good fake wife, though. Pliable: yes, by definition. But fierce? Even able to pretend they’re fierce? Not a fucking chance.
They’re already in the life, too, which is a problem. For this job, we need somebody who knows nothing about the Family, somebody who won’t get any ideas about blackmailing us.
Somebody innocent. Somebody pure.
As I grab a beer from the fridge and stroll over to the window that looks down at the dance floor, I hear Dani’s voice calling me playboy. It was not that long ago I’d have been down there with Levi, taking everything the bottle girls could give. But I’m tired of just being able to take. I want to earn.
Earn Dani’s smirk. Earn her quivering orgasm. Earn the searing wetness of her…
I shake my head, annoyed with myself. I need to stop letting that happen. I have more important things to think about than a woman I barely know. But the truth is I’m not down there with the bottle girls right now because they are pale shadows compared with her. Transient pleasures. There is no substance to them.
I sip my beer. That talk about a power play against Father was just that: talk. Whatever else is true about us, Father is a good man and he was a fine role model growing up. In many ways, I guess I would like to emulate him, though I could never tell the proud old bastard that. He’d never let me live it down.
But I am not him. The stories of old about Father—the ones of violence, bold territory grabs, devious outmaneuvering of his enemies? The man who did those things doesn’t exist anymore. Since I can remember, Father has preached patience, diplomacy, discipline.