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Yes, Vito sent a goddamnengagement ringto Tempest. From me. Which she promptly sent back, to my house, in a much larger box.
…because it came back to me together with a claw hammer and a bottle of lube.
Point taken.
“She’s a pretty girl, no?”
“No, she’s not.”
Vito snorts. “What, you prefer the sort of woman who frequents your club?”
“I prefer the sort of woman who doesn’t trick me into fuckingmarryingthem,” I grunt. “And besides, you know damn well I don’t play at Venom.”
It’s one of my firm rules: I don’t shit where I eat. Club Venom is my business and my empire, not my playground.
“The man sits on a mountain of cake and complains about being hungry,” Vito says to the air, shaking his head.
I glare at him. “I’m not complaining.”
“That’s all you’ve done since I arrived.”
“Well you arewelcometo go sun your wrinkly nuts back at your penthouse and risk the wrath of the 5thAvenue co-op boards,” I mutter.
Vito laughs loudly and takes a sip of his Fernet Branca before turning to eye me. “It could be much worse than Tempest Black, my friend.” His brow darkens. “Like one of those goddamn Greeks.”
I bite back a smirk. Vitohatesthe Drakos family, which is fair. Their youngest son, Deimos—a fucking psychopath with…interestingkinks—scared the ever-living fuck out of Vito’s niece Francesca one night at Club Venom. Granted, she only got in because the men working the door that night knew her uncle and were scared of the name. Later, I made them far more scared ofmeif they ever considered letting her in again. I also booted that little psycho Deimos from Venom and revoked his membership permanently.
“You know, when I mentioned hiring a stripper for your bachelor party, I wasn’t picturing my own father.”
Carmy steps out of the house and onto the back patio. He makes a face as he nods his chin at Vito.
“For fuck’s sake, Pop, put on some goddamn pants.”
Vito snorts, patting his belly contentedly. He’s still got the imposing physique he had as a younger man. But, I mean, the guy is sixty-five, and hedoeslove his wine and pasta.
“Does the peak male form intimidate you, son of mine?” Vito grins, tossing back his Fernet and then cupping his package through the speedo.
Carmy rolls his eyes. “No, but yourpeak male formin that fuckin’ banana hammock is going to put me in therapy.”
“Which would probably be a good thing for everyone in your life that has to interact with you on the regular.”
Carmy flips me off before he frowns and tilts his head, noticing the Sinatra playing softly over the outdoor speakers. His eyes roll.
“Jesus, Dante. He’s even got you listening to this old timey shit on these little playdates of yours? I’m gonna walk out here one of these days and findyouin a cute little G-string too, aren’t I?”
“Aww, you fantasizing about me, Carmy?”
Vito laughs heartily before he wags a finger at his son. “Thisold timey shitis solid gold Sinatra. You should get some musical taste, like Dante. Anyway, I’m gonna go hit the head.”
Carmy grins at me as his father gets to his feet. “Yeah, I’ll work on that, Pop.”
Carmine and I repress our laughter as we watch his father amble inside, ass hanging out of his speedo.
“I mean, to be fair, you gotta have balls to wear one of those things,” Carmine sighs, sitting in his dad’s vacated lounger.
“Yeah, well those balls have just been all over that chair, Carm.”
He makes a face as he scoots to the far end of the lounger. “So, anything?”
