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ChapterSeven
You still on to meet with Sterling tomorrow?Callie’s text reads.My reputation is on the line—LOL!
I move my takeaway container to my other hand as I struggle to answer the phone. Sooner or later I’m going to have to stop living on takeout, and that’s not even getting started on all the delicious meals Theo has cooked for us from one day to the next. It’s almost enough to make me wonder what it would be like to actually share a kitchen with the guy.
It’s late, but there’s a man standing in the lobby of the apartment building, dressed like he’s walked out of a spy movie, his eyes fixed forward. He nods to me with a knowing half-smile as I pass, and although I can’t make out the outline of a sidearm under his coat, that doesn’t mean it’s not there. After twenty-one years in the mafia, I know a made man when I see one.
Is he one of ours, sent to look out for me? One of the Emmerico’s’, sent to spy on me? An outside operator? A shiver of fear goes through me. The only reason someone in the community would show up to my apartment would be if they were looking for Lucas... or looking for me.
Take it easy,I tell myself.God, ten minutes with Dad and you’re paranoid to hell and back.
The guy doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t make a move when I walk past, although I can’t help glancing over my shoulder as I ride the elevator back up to Lucas’s flat. It would be pretty idiotic of someone to come after meafterthe alliance has been finalized, but then again, there are probably a lot of people who think taking me out will put an end to it. There have been more and more associates of my father’s skulking around lately, that’s for sure, and if I thought Theo following me to the pub was bad, I was in for a rude awakening. Whatever Lucas is dealing with right now, it must be bigger than Dad was letting on. Either that, or I’m just jumping at shadows.
I typeout a quick text to Callie:Hell yeah. Won’t miss it.I’m committed now, although Dad’s right; I’ll have to come clean to Lucas about this sooner or later. The thought makes me queasy. He’s been frosty since day one, but surely having already gotten Dad’s approval will help... right?
I’m so woundup when I get in that the only thing I can think about is eating my feelings. So that’s what I do, wolfing down the cheeseburger and fries from the takeaway container and tossing my phone onto the kitchen counter. It’s dead silence from Theo’s room, which is good—he usually goes out around this time of the evening, and this is definitely not my finest moment.
When I’m done,the fast food regret starts to set in, as well as a strong desire for a nap, and I’m sure that if I don’t do it now, I never will. With shaky hands, I dial Lucas’s number and wait, half-praying for him not to pick up.
But he does. “Yes?”His tone is cold and clipped.
What the fuck do even I say?Hi, honey, how was your day?I settle for something less stomach-churning: “Hey, Lucas.”
“Hello, Vivian.”
“So, ah... How are you?”
“I’m fine.” God, you could cut the frost in his voice with a knife. “It’s late, Vivian, and I’m busy. What do you want?”
“Busy with...?” I wince.Whycan I never seem to keep my mouth shut when I need to?!
“That’s none of your concern. Just trying to keep this shaky little deal of ours from going down the tubes. Now do you have something to say, or do you have something to sell?”
Fuck you,I’m tempted to snap.Nobody fucking tells me anything around here!But instead I swallow the anger rising in me and reply, as politely as I can, “I have a job interview tomorrow. At one of Craig Sterling’s galleries. I was hoping...” I swallow. “I mean, I want to take it. But I wanted to run it by you first. I guess.” You’d think I hadn’t rehearsed this conversation about a million times.
Lucas is silent for a long time. “Is that so?” he asks finally, and there’s something ominous in his tone.
“Yeah,” I say, mustering my courage. “It’s been my dream since I was a kid.”
“Really?” His voice is distant, almost disdainful.
I sigh. “Yeah. A lot of people think art is a waste of time and that I should be focusing on the family. But I love the work, and besides, Craig Sterling is—”
“Well, you can forget it,” Lucas interrupts.
“What? Why?” The last thing I want to do is piss him off, but if he doesn’t let me go to the gallery, this job is as good as dead before it even gets off the ground.
“Because Craig Sterling has his hands in a lot of pies, that’s why,” Lucas snaps. “Now stop asking questions and be the wife I was promised. With her mouth shut.”
“Look, I know about the artwork,” I protest. “I know how it affects the family business. But my work wouldn’t have anything to do with that! It’s just admin stuff, a chance to break into the field!” My first lie of the conversation.
“There are people out there who pay that guy to look the other way,” Lucas interjects, “and people who pay him to do things that would land most people in prison. You think you can go work for a man like that without stepping on a few toes?” He snorts. “You must be either stupid or naive.”
I press my lips together, seething. “I’m supposed to be staying out of your hair, right? What better way than to go do something meaningful, other than just sitting around this damned apartment?”
“You want to go out and do something meaningful?” Lucas says with a barking laugh. “I’ve got news for you, Vivian: that’s not what you signed up for. And if you’re working for Sterling, you’re a liability to all of us.”
“Dad didn’t seem to think so,” I retort, before I can stop myself. “He gave me his blessing.”
