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He was the man that murdered my father.
And I watched him drown another human in a toilet bowl.
Fuck, I was shaking. Ewan’s smile faltered slightly, and I made the snap decision to keep my mouth shut. Ronan got in my head, and I hated him for it.
“You okay?” Ewan asked.
“Fine,” I said, and walked to the hallway. “Didn’t sleep well last night so I’m taking a nap.”
I disappeared into my room and shut the door behind me. I got into bed and curled up under the blankets, and I knew that Ewan could come in whenever he wanted, could kick down that door and force himself into my bed—and the thought sent a strange, horrible shiver along my legs.
13
Ewan
Tara’s quiet on the drive out to the Don’s suburban mansion and I’m not sure why, but I don’t press her too hard.
At least she looks perfect. Hair down and thick, slightly curly, brushing against her shoulders and back. She wore a black dress that hugged her curves and was cut low enough in the front to show a hint of her breasts. Her high heels made her legs ten feet long and her lips were colored a light red that made her look delicious and inviting.
I had on my best suit. Armani, cut to fit like a glove, and cost more than a car. Tara complimented it when I came out of my room, and blushed a little when I returned the praise, but didn’t talk much after that.
Which was fine. She was probably nervous. The last time we came out to the Don’s, she was told that she’d have to marry me, whether she liked it or not, as some test of my fucking loyalty.
Tonight was different though. The Don was turning seventy, and he’d invited every important member of the Valentino family out to celebrate, along with other rich and powerful people from the city. I barely made the cut, and Tara had only been invited along as my guest. This was the sort of gathering where great deals were made, where the players in Philadelphia’s politics got together to make new rules, to carve up the kingdom into pieces, and to fight each other for the best bits.
The Don loved this sort of thing. He was a master of politics, and though he’d gotten slower over the years, his mind remained sharp. He could play a police chief like the man was a rookie, or manipulate a mayor into doing his bidding at the snap of his gnarled, arthritic fingers. The Don was my mentor, and I still felt like I only understood half of what he knew at best.
There was a reason the Valentino family ran the city.
Other mob families came and went over the years. The Leone family was in charge for a while until their older members moved to Chicago, and their younger leaders decided to carve up what was left of the empire. The Valentino family stepped into the vacuum they left, and took charge of the drug trade, turning a massive profit each year.
Now, the Don was thinking about his future, and the future of the family.
I parked at the end of a long row of expensive-looking cars. I helped Tara out and we walked together, her arm through mine. The house was done up and perfect, and a couple guys in black shirts and black slacks stood out in front of the doors with visible guns holstered at their sides. I nodded to them and they let us in through the front, into a crowd of well-dressed men and women packed throughout the house.
Tara followed me without talking much. I snagged glasses of champagne and we did a quick circuit. I said hello to some of the mafia guys I knew, saw the underboss Roy Paganini, who was a longtime friend of the Don’s and second-in-command. Hector Beryl, the consigliere and head lawyer, stood holding court at the base of the stairs, telling some story about how he won an absurd case and got a few Capos off of drug trafficking charges, even though they were all guilty as fuck. Dean stood in a group of other Capos, and gave me a salute as we passed, and the Don’s housekeeper, Bea, winked at me from where she stood near the kitchen, managing the staff.
“Who are all these people?” Tara asked as we stepped into the Don’s large living room with its high ceilings and exposed wooden beams. Massive windows overlooked an expansive back yard with a pool and some relatively absurdly sculpted bushes and hedges.
“Now you’re talking to me?” I asked, grinning a little as she leaned closer to me.
“Don’t be a dick.” She sipped her drink. “Come on. Tell me.”
I nodded at a group of men sitting near the fireplace. “Guy at the end is a state senator. Guy next to him owns seven restaurants. The woman across from them is some high-powered lawyer, I forget her name. We passed some Capos, a couple important soldiers, the underboss, Roy, and some other random guys that work around the Valentino family orbit.”
