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Not now, not in my position.
“Goodbye, asteraki mu, and good luck,” I whisper, letting her sleep.
Lycus meets me in the hall outside of the room. He’s leaning against the wall and straightens as I approach. The tall man’s eyes narrow and a knowing little grin tugs at his mouth as if the bastard can smell the sex on me.
“I thought you weren’t staying the night, but then I get a text telling me to meet you here,” he says, head tilted to the side. Lycus is my age, early thirties, with dark Greek hair and a bit of stubble on his neck and cheeks. I’ve known him since I was a child, and there’s nobody in this world I trust more. “Why do you look like you slept in that suit?”
“I didn’t have time to change.” I accept a coffee from him and take a sip. Good, strong, and dark. “I didn’t want to keep the union waiting.”
Lycus laughs as he shakes his head. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had a date last night. But since I do know better, I have to assume you got too drunk instead, and those useless soldiers you call bodyguards left you to fend for yourself.”
“You caught me.” I raise the coffee. “I sent my men home and overindulged again. To my ever-observant underboss.”
“So long as you don’t keel over, I couldn’t care less.” He sighs as he runs a hand through his hair. “Only I wish you didn’t look so messy.”
“The dockworkers will be understanding after I make our offer. Come on, Lycus, don’t be too worried.”
He laughs, sounding bitter, and we walk to the elevators. “I almost wish youdidhave a woman in that room,” he says. “You know finding a wife will go a long way toward pacifying your loudest critics.”
I bristle at that and glare at him. “My critics can continue to complain. I will marry when I choose to.” I don’t need this shit right now, not with Camille’s taste still on my tongue. I’m well aware of what my family wants from me, but I do not bend for anyone, especially not for them.
Not while I’m the lord.
“That’s the problem. You’re the lord of a crime family, Evander, you don’t have the freedom to do whatever you want anymore.”
“Then what’s the point of becoming the lord? I didn’t get my hands dirty to let a bunch of old men push me around.”
“No, you didn’t, but you also didn’t do all that killing just to lose control of your family because you refused to play the game.” Lycus rolls his eyes at my anger. Of everyone in the Kazan organization, he fears me the least, the asshole. He knows I’ll hurt him, but he’s not afraid to hurt me back.
It’s what I love the most about him. I need men like Lycus around—not afraid to call me on my bullshit.
Only not too many of them.
“I don’t have time to worry about internal politics,” I say as the elevator doors open and we step into the empty car. “Not now that the Italians are moving into our turf and making trouble.”
“The Pavones are a problem,” Lycus agrees. “But they aren’t a threat to the family’s stability. Internal civil war would be much, much worse.”
“We will hold together whether I get married or not.” I put a hand on his shoulder and squeeze. “I killed once to take control of the Kazan family, and I’ll kill again if it comes to that.”
Lycus lets out a breath and looks at the ceiling. “I know you will. That’s the fucking problem.”
The elevator doors open and we step out together.
Chapter5
Evander
The dockworkers’ union boss sits across the table with his right-hand man and his lawyer, and they look like a couple of smug assholes. They traded in their Carhartt jackets and double-knee jeans for Polo shirts and khaki pants, and I’d bet my left ventricle that they’re headed out to play golf when we’re finished.
The whole blue-collar worker thing only means something when it comes time to convince the rank and file to fall in line.
“We’ve had a long and profitable friendship,” I say and study the main boss, a guy named Owen Grady with a ruddy complexion and a squashed face like a gourd three weeks past Halloween. He looks out of place in the dining room of the Drake, but looks aren’t everything. Grady’s a player, and a good one. “I’m hoping we can continue that way.”
“I agree, Evander,” Grady says and sips his coffee and nibbles on his wheat toast. Fucker must have a bad heart or something. I catch him eyeing the bacon on his lawyer’s plate like a dope fiend. “You’ve been good to the dockworkers and we don’t forget that.”
“But?” I glance between the men. His lackeys look uncomfortable, but Grady only sits forward.
“Butwe’ve gotten some good offers recently, and I’m a businessman. I have to do what’s best for my people, which I know you understand.” His smug smile makes me want to crack his knees in half.
