Page 66 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

NINE

John headed after Siena, determined to get her to talk to him for more than five seconds. She disappeared into the dining room, and the Calabrese boss’s oldest son stepped out of what appeared to be the living room at the same time.

“Here, let me take that.”

John handed over the empty glass of whiskey he was still holding. “Thanks.”

“You’re not leaving yet, are you?” Kev asked.

John’s gaze drifted toward the dining room, but went quickly back to Kev. “No, not yet.”

But soon.

John wasn’t about to tell Kev Calabrese that being in the brownstone was a special kind of hell for him. A constant battle between showing respect for the boss of the Calabrese Cosa Nostra, or defending the honor of a dead man.

“My father asked me to let you know he’ll be waiting in his office to chat a little more,” Kev said. “He thought you might have gotten lost or something.”

John forced himself not to look toward the dining room again. Kev didn’t mention having seen John following after Siena, and he wasn’t about to make it obvious. He didn’t know what the woman’s family was like regarding her, men, and dating.

She didn’t need trouble.

Not because of him, anyway.

“The office is on the third floor,” Kev said gesturing at the stairwell. “Last door on the left—he usually leaves it open for us.”

John nodded, saying only, “Grazie.”

Silently adding, for fucking nothing.

The very last thing John wanted to do was sit down with Matteo for longer than he already had. The dinner had been more than enough. Even still, he climbed the flights of stairs, and glanced over the family portraits hanging on white walls because the rules of their life happened to be a hell of a lot clearer than his wants at the moment.

Never shun a boss.

A boss is a boss is a boss, John.

He now understood—in a way—why the Marcellos tended to keep their distance where the Calabrese family was concerned. Friendships made from situations like these only led to men who did not actually like one another, but rather, made nice for the sake of appearances.

But when no one was watching …

That’s when a man really had to worry.

John stood in the open doorway of the Calabrese Don’s office, and tried to keep his posture as least defensive as he could. His arms stayed down at his side, and not folded over his chest. He kept his face expressionless, instead of the scowl he wanted to present.

Respect was not always easy to give.

“Johnathan,” Matteo said with a wide smile.

Too wide.

John didn’t move an inch. “Kev said you wanted to chat a bit more. In private, I take it.”

Matteo nodded. “You guessed correctly. Come, have a seat.”

The man waved at the chairs directly across from his large, cherry oak desk. Behind him, an entire wall was filled with old leather-bound books that lined the shelves. A skyline painting of New York hung on one wall, while a portrait of Carl Calabrese rested on another wall.

All over again, John fought to hide his discomfort.

It was getting harder to do.