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“Good to know.”
“Now, Turner, you owe our Delilah here an apology,” Alfredo says, tipping his chin.
“I’ll do no such thing,” Shane says, and I could have told you he’d have that reaction—the man never admits a fault.
I give him an exaggerated cringe.
“If I were you, I’d just do what the man asked.”
“I won’t be apologizing to some whore who came to a funeral in a slutty red dress like some kind of call girl.”
My eyes go wide, comically so.
Seems we’ve dropped the father act.
Good.
“Funny, because I became a stripper to pay off your remaining debts and get you blacklisted from any game in the tristate.” His eyes go wide—just a hair. “No one there has ever treated me like a call girl. In fact, the only person who actually sold my time and my body, in any way, was you, right?”
All three men to my left go tight at my words.
Guess my husband didn’t share my history.
“All those dates with senators' sons? The galas . . . the luncheons . . . all with different men on my arm who needed an image boost.”
“That wasn’t—” Shane starts, trying to save his ass.
I warned him, to be fair. Told him to walk away.
“It was. But that’s behind us now.” I step forward, tipping my chin up. “I don’t want to see you again. Not in my presence. Not at events. In fact, I don’t even want to see you in the fucking news.”
“You’re being ridiculous—”
“She’s not. She told you her expectations. You either adhere to them or there are consequences,” Marco says, his voice firm.
Have I mentioned lately how much I love Marco?
“I’m a mayor. I can’t just stay off the news,” Shane argues.
“Perfect. Quit,” Arturo says.
Shane actually has the balls to laugh.
“You’re insane, old man,” he says, but the laugh stifles quickly when both Jason and Marco step forward, arms crossed on their chests.
I cringe at Shane. “Eeek. Bad move.”
“I can’t just quit being mayor. I have . . . I have work. I have bills to pay. I have—”
“Never stopped you before when you were making Lola pay your debts.” The area around us goes quiet, and the air goes cold. “All those debts you racked up, never worried about the bills you had to pay. Always had her, right?”
“That’s not—”
“Quit,” I say, the words firm, the idea growing in my mind. “Quit or you’ll have a challenger next term. Quit or I’ll make your life a living fucking hell.”
“Delilah—”
“We have a guy already, a friend of the family. Would do well in your place. With the backing of your daughter and Lilah, I can guarantee he’ll win.”
