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“That’s awfully cocky of you. Do you really think she’ll find you so irresistible that she won't be able to refuse you?” Salvato obviously doesn’t know how ruthless I can be to get what I want. Fucking his innocent-looking daughter, trying to knock her up, will be a nice distraction from the shitstorm I’m dealing with. And I’ll save my final demand for Dante for later.
“I’m coming to see her tomorrow night at nine. You want my contacts, right?”
“Fine. I’ll give you ten minutes with Sophie. But you have to meet and consider Cass as well.”
“Oh, and Dante, it’s time to update your will.”
“Don’t fucking push your luck, Dunne.”
“So, you’ll leave a drug empire to one of your daughters, then? We both know you’ll never put that burden on one of them, so draw up the fucking papers by June first.”
“You know there will be a clause that if I’m assassinated, you won’t ever see a dime.”
“But you’ll leave something to Sophie, right? My soon-to-be wife,” I remark.
“Fuck you, Dunne.”
“See you tomorrow night,” I reply before cutting him off.
Hell, yes. I wasn’t sure if Dante would even consider making me his heir, since he has three children. But no father would want his innocent girls’ knee deep in gangster shit.
“What was that about?” Flynn asks.
“You heard for yourself. I’m getting married. Don’t make any plans on June first.”
“You’re marrying that fucker’s daughter?”
“Yes.”
“Why? He’s a sleezy asshole. And he didn’t sound too thrilled about the idea.”
“He’s just bitching, but I know he’ll agree. He needs my connections if he wants to keep his fentanyl business thriving. I bet he’s wishing he didn’t need my contacts, but knows how much cash he’s losing from being stubborn this long.”
“Why does he need your connections?”
“To get law enforcement, feds, DAs, judges, etcetera to look the other way while he traffics product in and out of the state. I have blackmail on dozens getting spanked, fucked, or being sucked off. The sorts of videos these men would die before letting their families see them at their worst.”
“That’s what you keep in the safe? Blackmail?”
Ignoring his question because I don’t want him snooping around, I say, “How much money will it take to get rid of you?”
3
Sophie Salvato
My life is like one endless loop of sleeping, eating, and tennis. I live and breathe for the sport. For eight or nine hours a day, I’m either doing cardio, drills, practice matches, or conditioning. The nights are for recovery, and thinking about how I could play better the next day.
And it’s all for nothing.
I’ll never go pro because I’m not that good, which is fine. Winning isn’t why I spend my days running around on the court. I endure the heat and exhaustion just because I love the sport. If there’s a racquet in one hand and a can of balls in the other, I’m happy. It’s fun to play against my trainer, Betsy, even though she usually kicks my ass. But I have just as much fun on my own chasing down 80 mph balls being shot out of the tennis ball machine. It’s just easier to enjoy the sport when there’s no competition. Betsy doesn’t understand. Her world revolves around being the best. She plays to win, is paid by my father to teach me to be better, while I play to…just play.
Sometimes I wish I had more ambitions, a few friends, a like-minded tennis partner maybe, but what’s the point? Wanting things only leads me down a road of disappointment because my overprotective father doesn’t like for me to leave the penthouse or be around anyone other than our family or his guards.
It’s safer this way. That’s what he says.
What I can’t tell him is that I’m tired of always playing it safe; that a little danger in my boring world sounds…enticing. Exciting.
If I told my father I long to throw myself in harm’s way just to know what it feels like to be alive, he would probably lock me up in a mental institution.
