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But when it comes to Lilah, his plans matter. They matter a fuckuva lot, regardless of the fact that no matter what, any plans that involve Lilah and Paulie will absolutely not play out.
If Paulie were smart, if he knew how to play the game, he’d wait me out as well. Wait for me to ask. But the boy is so young, so green. He doesn’t understand how the game works, sitting in his entitled chair and never down in the trenches, learning how to play.
So he spills, of course.
“She could be the trial, Dante. Can’t you see it? I already have a few inquiries, questions about her.” His words make me sick, but I keep my face bored and irritated.
“Stop playing games, Paulie.” He rolls his eyes and huffs, further proving what a fucking child he is.
“Selling pussy, Dante. But not just pussy. Expensive pussy.” I don’t speak, that ice crackling further, running into my heart, stopping my breathing.
On the outside, though, the face is neutral.
The body is loose.
That’s the key to success in this world. No matter what is going on around you, what people are saying, you play it cool. Even if you’re three seconds away from pulling out a gun and shooting them between their eyes, you never show your hand.
Lilah knows the game.
She plays it well.
One of many things I fucking love about the woman.
“Turner’s daughter—she’s hot. She’s a fucking wet dream, always smiling for the cameras but never enough. Men are . . . interested.” I let him dig the hole. I need to know everything, get the ammunition I need. Knowledge is power, after all. “We sell her to the highest bidder, Dante. Use the stage as a way to display her, let her dance for a month, then hold a silent auction. The winner goes home with her.”
“So you’re telling me you want to prostitute her? To prostitute a well-known mayor’s daughter? A daughter who has been in the limelight her entire life? A daughter whose sister was just nearly kidnapped by a Carluccio soldier?”
How does he not see how fucking messy that would be? How many fingers would be pointed our way?
It would take one wrong person hearing about this “auction” to get an all-out investigation running.
“No. Not really. Just the once. I don’t give a fuck what happens after.” I look at my watch, making it seem like I don’t have time for his shit, like I have other, better things to do, but I’m really looking at my watch to see how long it’s been since Lilah left, how far she could have gotten from this sick fuck. “She’s just the beginning,” he says, and I think this time my heart stops.
Not for Lilah.
For this fucking family.
For my nephew.
For the understanding that my brother’s child can’t be involved in this family. He’s too dangerous. Too greedy. Too fucking stupid.
“The beginning?”
“A test, I told you.” He’s smiling now, eager to tell me his plan. “We start with the politicians, the dumb ones, other big names. Get them in deep to where they can’t pay. Hold their daughters, their wives, whatever, as collateral.” His words make me sick. Holding human beings as collateral for dirty bets they didn’t make as if they are some kind of property. “When we sell them, they’re even, and we can start the process all over again.”
“We do not sell pussy,” I say firmly.
“Not yet,” he says with a smile.
“This is my club, Paulie. I’m telling you, we do not sell fucking pussy here.”
“We’ll see what grandfather says about that. It’s a great plan, Zio Dante. Would bring in a new audience to the family, new streams of revenue.”
And that’s when I know.
This is his plan to secure Don.
The fucked-up asshole has been planning this.
