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“I know that.”
“The right son is not the strongest in business nor the fastest draw. It is the one who keeps our empire alive.”
“What’s your point?”
He grins. “My point is that I have an heir and I’m dying. Some day you will be in my shoes. You will be dying. As will Michael. There will come a day when the next generation must take over. That requires children. Michael’s fiancée has made her position clear. What is Ophelia’s?”
“Ophelia’s what?”
“Her position on children.”
“I haven’t asked her.”
“Let me put this simply. You get her pregnant and bring me the proof. Do that and the entire east coast operation is yours. I’ve even written it into the will in case I croak before the baby is born.”
“What’s to stop her getting an abortion after you’ve signed everything over?”
“Nothing at all but the commission will give everything to Michael. It’s baby or bust for you, my boy.” He folds his arms and looks at me through narrowed eyes, watching my reaction.
I keep my emotions hidden, managing a smile. “How long do I have?”
“Until Michael gets married. That gives you six months.”
“Didn’t the doctors give you six months?”
“Bunch of shysters. I’ll be around to see it born, I’ve no doubt. Even with the cigars.” He points the butt at me. “You want to confess that you’re faking a marriage with a civilian just to beat your brother?”
“It’s a real marriage, father.”
“It better be. A real marriage and a real pregnancy. You bring me a positive test, taken in front of Barry, and I’ll sign things over the same day. With the proviso that an abortion means Michael gets the lot.”
He yawns loudly. I can hear the rattle in his lungs as he did it. I doubt he’s got six months left. Suddenly I think the cigar smoking is bravado, trying to prove to himself that he’s not weakening.
“All that matters is family,” he says and there’s a tremble to his voice. “Michael will not give me a grandchild and I want to see one before I go. Keep the line going and I will give you the world, my boy. Can you do that for an old man?”
I nod. “It will be done.”
Except will it? What I’ve got to do now is speak to Ophelia. Tell her that not only are we getting married. Now, I need to convince her to give me a child as well.
I get the feeling it’s not going to be an easy sell.
Twenty-Five
Ophelia
Cathy is still up when I get home. “You caught me,” she says when I walk in.
I look at the TV. She’s got Bridget Jones’s Diary on again and it’s snowing on the screen. Bridget’s running down the street in her leopard print panties while Cathy sobs into a tissue.
She looks up at me with bloodshot eyes, pausing the film and frowning. “I needed to take a break from the misery that is my math ability. I tell you, I’m going to need a hell of a loan to get this cleaning thing off the ground, even with the teeny tiny rent your Italian love God is charging. Speaking of which, I thought you were spending the night with him.”
“His dad told him to take me home.”
“Holy shit, he still lives with his dad?”
I sit on the couch next to her as she mops up her tears with a wad of tissues. “It’s a bit more complicated than that,” I say.
“You’re telling me. Rocky said Vincenzo’s getting married next week. Are you his last fling before he settles down? Did his fiancée turn up and find you at the house? Don’t keep me on the edge. Finish me off, like Bridget should have said to Darcy. Is it true? Is he getting married?”
