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“I met a guy.”
“Oh!” I perk up, happy for the distraction—and for her. “Does he have a name?”
“Nope. I’m going to be as shady as you are. He’s gorgeous. Sexy. He’s got brown hair, green eyes. He’s got that swagger.”
“Okay, where did you meet mystery man?”
“At a club.”
“Think it can get serious?”
“Maybe. You can never tell. Maybe he’ll move me into a great big mansion like this one day.” She laughs.
Hearing her laughter makes me laugh too.
“Other than the hot man you’re banging . . . how are you?”
“Who said anything about sex?” Her lip tips up, and I know she’s joking with me. “Of course, we are fucking.”
I like to see her smile. Lord knows she’s had it rough. She deserves it.
All of it.
28
Matteo
* * *
We touch down in Albany a little after one in the afternoon.
This will be a fast trip.
A late lunch with the governor of New York at his mansion.
On the books, I own many companies. I’m a respectable businessman who owns waterfront properties everywhere, so it isn’t unheard of for me to meet with him.
But off the record, he was the one who originally tipped me off to Marino on my ass.
As many times in the past as Marino tried to do business with me, I never had to with Governor Thomas. I am able to get most of what I need done.
But my dismissal of the Jersey prick ended up costing me.
I misjudged Salvatore.
It never dawned on me that he would connect with an overly ambitious governor from the neighboring state and convince him that he was the better option.
Marino has tied his political aspirations to the wrong man.
Out of principale, I won’t help him.
Not even if he is hanging off the side of a mountain needing a hand.
I’d still walk away.
Now in the car, we make the drive from the private airplane to the governor’s mansion. It’s not a long trip, and as we pull up to the sprawling estate, not unlike the one in Jersey, I can’t help but think of my wife.
Pulling out my phone, I fire off a text.
Me: Are you enjoying your day?
Viviana: Who is this?
That makes me smile. My wife is too feisty for her own good.
Me: Your husband
Viviana: Oh . . . sorry. You never gave me your number. So I didn’t know.
Me: Who did you think it was?
Viviana: I wasn’t sure.
I look down at my phone. Did she think it was an old boyfriend?
The idea of one reaching out to her has my hands clenching into a tight fist.
I won’t share my wife with anyone.
Me: No one better be texting you.
Me: You’re mine and only mine.
I type before I can stop myself, letting my possessiveness show in my words.
I probably shouldn’t have typed it, but it’s true.
Viviana: Does that go the same for you?
And there it is. The question she asked the first night in her apartment. One I wasn’t prepared to answer, but after all these weeks, and knowing now what it feels like to sink inside her, to get lost in her abyss, the answer isn’t so hard.
Me: Yes.
I put my phone back in my pocket. Not wanting to say anything else. It’s at the same time as I do that the car rolls to a stop. We’re here.
We exit the car, and then my man and I go to the front door, where we are greeted by Governor Thomas’s security team. Two of his men search for guns. They know that my security detail has one, my man does have his piece on him, but they all stand close. This isn’t my first time coming here, and it won’t be my last.
Governor Thomas walks over to me, reaches his hand out, and we shake.
He then leads me to the dining room, where we will eat and speak. As soon as I sit down, a poured glass of scotch is already in front of me. His staff knows me well.
“We have a problem.”
“Yes. Marino is always a thorn in my side. However, I thought that by marrying his daughter, you’d’ve crushed the opposition.”
“It would seem not yet. My plan is to take him down—” Governor Thomas holds up his hand.
“I don’t want to hear about it.”
He takes a deep breath. He looks tired and worn, as though this whole thing is too much for him to handle. I know the feeling. Sometimes I wonder why I bother. But then I think of what a monster my uncle was. I think about what a monster Salvatore will become if given the opportunity. Governor Thomas knows this as well, which is why he’s agreed to help me. Doesn’t make it any better. I’m sure he wishes he could throw me out, but it behooves him to have me in his corner and to have me in New York.
