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And it seems I’ve succeeded.
Still, I chew on the inside of my lip. From the outside, it would look like I’m nervous, like this interaction is making me question everything. But in reality, I’m fighting the smile that wants to take over.
I have to fight the siren back, fight the urge to become the woman who wants to put Paulie in his place. I work to fight the need to snap back and be catty because that’s not the role I need to play with these men.
Not yet, at least.
Right now, I am meek, sweet Lilah. I am the little girl who just wants to bring her family back to its glory. The woman who is excited at the prospect of joining the Carluccio family, of marrying Paulie who will one day be Don.
Over my dead fucking body, my mind wants to add.
“It will only take a minute, I promise,” I say, stepping closer to him. He stares at me for a long moment, like he’s trying to understand my game.
I wonder if he has any idea—if he can tell I’ve slowly been winning his men over, earning their trust and loyalty so that when I take him down, I’ll be safe with men who already respect me. I wonder if he knows all of the tensions I’ve been quietly stirring.
I’m pretty sure he’s absolutely clueless. If he knew, he probably wouldn’t be so quick to ignore me, to talk down to me.
He steps back before turning from me, silently dismissing me.
“Paulie, please. It’s just a few things like menus and timing for the day of.” I hold up the folder of information that Teresa gave me, still planning the wedding as if she genuinely thinks I’ll be marrying her son.
We never really did have a come to Jesus moment where I admitted everything, I suppose.
“You know, the ceremony, the rehearsal, th—”
“I don’t give a shit, Delilah. Get the fuck out before I make you.”
Yes, please do, I think, but instead of saying that, I pout, putting a confused look on my face and stepping closer to him again.
“Hey, man, no need to be a dick. She just has a question,” Tino says, putting his stick down onto the felted table and walking our way. Paulie turns to him with anger in his eyes, tipping his chin at the man he recruited.
“What, you’re gonna take the side of a fuckin’ Russo?” Paulie asks with venom in his voice, betrayal bubbling right beneath it.
“She’s gonna be a Carluccio, Paulie,” Jason says, his voice low and easy. But with men like Jason, low and easy often means frustrated and on guard.
“If I fuckin’ let her,” Paulie says, the threat clear in his voice.
“What does that mean?” Dario says. “You’re just gonna give up the merging of the Russos?”
I’m surprised he’s even in the same room as Paulie. From what Dante told me, the family meeting where he facilitated Paulie and Dario talking about Kelsey’s infidelity went about as well as one could expect—Dario hurt and trying to figure out why someone in his family would do that to him, Paulie calling him a little bitch and saying she wasn’t even a good lay.
The mark on Paulie’s jaw Dario gave him is still there, the lightest yellowing of the bruise the last to fade.
“I appreciate it, guys, but you can keep playing. I just need Paulie—” I start, trying to make it seem like I’m making an effort to keep things copacetic, calm and easy.
“I told you I’m not doing shit, Delilah. Get the fuck out of here,” he says, and I see it.
The red around his collar.
He’s getting mad.
I’ve been planning this night for two weeks, waiting for when all of Paulie’s men are in one room, calculating the best way for this to happen, and, maybe the most important factor, not telling Dante about this particular step in my plan.
It’s the most necessary step, but one Dante will absolutely rage over.
“I just don’t understand—” I start, following him, my hand moving to his shoulder.
I’m egging him on. Waiting for that hotheaded Italian who moves without thinking to come out. The one everyone has warned me about. The one the made Silvero doubt if he would be the right Carluccio to be in charge when Carmine passes the torch.
