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He stayed quiet. The silence continued on like he had no intention of saying anything. He just smoked his cigar and drank his coffee.
“Thank you for the money.” When I checked my account today, I discovered I had even less than I realized. The cost of the apartment and food really added up. “I feel bad for taking it, but—”
“I’m your man, sweetheart. It’s my job to take care of you.”
I didn’t even like it when a guy paid for dinner on a first date. I didn’t accept handouts. I didn’t accept loans. But I took Bartholomew’s money, not because he was rich, but because it felt different. “How are things with you?”
“Same shit as always.” He was never specific about his work.
“You can share your life with me, Bartholomew. You aren’t going to scare me off.” His livelihood wasn’t important anymore. I’d become so attached that the risks his career imposed weren’t nearly as dangerous as not having him. My broken heart hurt a lot more than that bullet.
“I had to blackmail the prime minister to keep our northern borders open, but the Prime Minister of Belgium is growing increasingly frustrated by the drugs that have suddenly flooded their streets. I’m afraid my threat to expose his affair and illegitimate heir won’t be enough to keep business running, not when the crime is so apparent. But I have more product thanI can sell before it expires. Without the Italian territory I’d intended to have as mine by now, I need another outlet. And if I don’t succeed, my distributors will grow angry because they’ll lose the money they invested. My men don’t show the same allegiance to me they once did, so it’s much harder to get shit done. Some still respect me, but some will never respect me again. Instead of actually doing my job, I spend my time trying to figure out how to do my job the way I once did. Croatia is still a strong territory, but it’s so much smaller than France that it’s not a substantial addition. Italy is a comparable country, and it’s the gateway to other desirable places, like Greece and the Middle East.”
I listened to all of this in both reverence and fear. He sounded like a suit on Wall Street talking about stocks and bonds, but instead of legal investments, it was drugs. I had no response, not when I couldn’t grasp the depth of his work. “I’m sorry I made such a mess for you.”
“It wasn’t a dig, sweetheart.”
“I know, but I’m still sorry.”
It turned quiet.
I spoke again. “Do you ever think about leaving?”
“Leaving what?”
“Your work.”
“To do what?”
“I don’t know…”Have a quiet life with me, maybe.
“No, I never think about it.”
Another wave of silence ensued. It kept going, lasting for so long it seemed like he wasn’t there anymore.
He eventually spoke again. “I have to go.”
“Alright.”
“Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Good morning, vampire…”
My father hosted dinner at his estate, in the same courtyard where we’d celebrated Uncle Tony’s life. It was small, only ten of us, Victor and Lucas, along with some of the other men he considered family.
The sun didn’t set until nine these days, so we still had sunlight as we sat near the fountain, the Tuscan warmth making us sweat on the back of our necks. I took the seat beside Victor, staying as far away from my father as possible. Victor’s deception made me loathe him even more.
I was still an outsider to most of them. His men hardly looked at me, and they certainly didn’t talk to me.
Catherine was the life of the party, stealing all the attention because she was young, cute, and energetic. I could tell Lucas was annoyed by it, but he couldn’t exactly slap her right in front of my father.
Not that he would do anything.
Victor drank from his wine then placed his hand on my thigh underneath the table. His movements were smooth and careless,like it was natural and not premeditated. His fingers rested just above my knee, right on my bare skin, and the touch made me feel so guilty, it was as if I’d slept with him.
Instinctively, I brushed his hand away, feeling like I was betraying Bartholomew for allowing it to happen.
Victor didn’t try again, but he looked at me like I was in the wrong.
