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Julian takes a sip of his drink. “I’m always happy to assist in any way I can. But—may I be frank, Don Bernardi?”
“Please.”
“Your son, Leo, came to me with certain promises. I kept my side of the bargain, but I’m not sure I’ve been paid back in kind.”
My father frowns and I feel my skin prickle. Julian’s eyes flicker over me, then back to Dad.
“I understand where you’re coming from,” Dad says slowly. “And Leo is a man of his word, even if he sometimes stretches it beyond my permissions.” He gives me a meaningful look. “But I’m sure that whatever promises were made, Leo will make good on them.”
I’m too focused on Julian’s reaction to worry about what Dad might say to me in private later. “What is it you feel you’re owed, Castellani?” It’s the first time I’ve spoken not in response to someone else.
Julian sets down his drink and leans forward, speaking to my father, not to me. “I want to exercise my skills. The work at the docks is hardly exciting. I’m bored, and frankly, I feel rather disrespected.”
That’s it. That’s the magic word. He has Dad’s attention now.
“My father understood what it took to keep me focused. Keep my attention. My brother, on the other hand...” He shrugs. “I can be a very useful tool for the man who wants to utilize me, and I enjoy my work. But my talents are being wasted on low-level thugs. So are Leo’s, for that matter. You treat him like a head-kicker, but he’s more than that.”
My father’s smile is almost a sneer. “Leo has his talents, it’s true. But he’s not a thinker.”
I’m right fucking here.
“You know,” Dad says, a faint note of mockery in his voice. “You offer your skills like a mercenary, Julian. What is it that you want from me in return for using them?”
Julian’s eyes lock with my father’s. “I want Leo.” His voice is low and husky, completely fucking inappropriate, and it goes straight to my dick.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I should act insulted, outraged. But I’m stuck to my seat, just like the other three are, sitting there with open mouths.
“I want to work with him in more depth,” Julian goes on, and I see my father sag with relief.
God forbid my dirty little secret come out.
“Leo is a good boy,” Dad says. “But he has his limitations. You understand?”
For a moment, I fantasize about killing the old man. Throwing myself across the table and ripping away that wizened old skull from his spine, showing him exactly where my limitation lies: in being belittled in front of a Castellani.
Julian’s eyes flicker toward me, almost as though he can read my mind and is waiting to see if I’ll make a move.
“I like Leo,” Julian announces, after a moment. “And he’s useful.”
“I already have a job,” I growl. “And it’s not ‘babysitting the Castellani rat.’”
Julian laughs, but it’s drowned out by my father’s bellowing Italian. How dare I disrespect his guest, et cetera, et cetera. And at the end of it, Julian has what he wants.
Me, at his beck and call.
“I think,” Dad says, in a more even voice, “that Julian could teach you a few things, Leo.”
Julian and I exchange a look. He gives me a small, satisfied smile.
But Dad leans forward toward Julian, begging for attention, asking what else he needs. His eager, craven tone doesn’t sit well with me. Julian is charming, sure, but he’s a Castellani. There’s no need to kiss his ass.
Julian’s chin comes up. “I want to speak with you about the day my mother died.” He might as well have tossed a live grenade onto the table. Dad’s face hardens and his eyebrows furrow. “I know you were there at Redwood Manor the day before,” Julian continues. He uses that unblinking stare to pin my father in place, and I can’t help admiring him. “I want to know what you saw. What you heard.”
The thing about Julian is, he doesn’t give a fuck what my father thinks of him. That’s the real truth, the truth my father can’t see. But I appreciate it.Ican’t shake off Dad’s influence, but I like watching Julian’s attitude toward him.
Living vicariously or some shit.
Dad glares at me instead of Julian, crossing his arms. “Why are you dragging up the past?”
