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“Christ, if Gio could see you now, like this, the irony alone might kill him. So very close to what he wanted all those years.”
A faint blush touches her face.
She pushes away from the seat and comes to stand between me and the desk instead, as if the chair itself might corrupt her somehow. “Don’t say that. I’m not like him. Or you.”
I lift her up and sit her on my desk instead, crowding between her legs. I fantasize about what it would be like, spreading her out on it. Taking her right here, over the place where I’ve cut deals and ordered hits.
“You’re right. I like you better on the desk than behind it.”
She turns her head as I kiss against her neck, catching my mouth instead.
“Sal, I’m hardly in the mood—” she mumbles against my lips.
“I can change that. I won’t be here for a few days,” I tell her, drawing us hip to hip, running my hand over her belly, “I’m gonna leave you something to work on while I’m gone.”
She pushes me back suddenly.
“What do you mean gone?” she asks, sitting straighter.
“You have your way of answering this kind of attack. I have mine. And I don’t write pretty letters.”
“You’re leaving? Sal, no—”
She searches my face as if she’s never seen me before. I don’t understand how this is a surprise for her. I’ve always come and gone when I needed to—and now, I need to more than ever.
“Somebody has to answer for it, Tessa.”
“They already did!” she cries, rising to her feet. “Someone just died for it, Sal! Right in front of us!” she half-whispers, as if it’s some horrible secret.
“…That’s not enough.”
Her face falls.
The way she looks at me, it tears through me like a bullet.
“Says who?” she asks. “Show them to me, Sal. I don’t see anybody beating down this door, calling for war. So where’s the outrage? Or is it just you that feels like they have to go out and get revenge?
Because you messed up?”
My jaw tightens around the words, struggling to swallow down my response. Anger coats the back of my tongue, tightens in the knuckles of my throbbing hand.
“That’s just the way it is—”
“Bullshit. You’re the head of this family, you decide what is and what isn’t! My father is never running out in the street with a gun. When he needs something done, he delegates like a leader!”
I scoff.
“Like a fucking coward.”
“A coward who’s alive! Who’s not covered in scars!” She pushes away from me. “And you let me sit here and pour my heart into that letter, knowing you were going to run off and do the exact same thing to someone else tomorrow—”
“They murdered Vinny. A fucking letter doesn’t change that, Tessa! You want me to sit here behind a desk, like it’s another day at the office?”
She backs away, squaring me up with a single look.
“I want you to stop thinking like a soldier and start acting like a don.”
The shot hits too close to something vital, sparking my anger like a goddamn reflex.
