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I can’t put my finger on anything specific. She’s hot but lots of women I’ve fucked have been hot. She’s intelligent but so are lots of women.
Could it be because she stands up to me? Could that be it? Or is it just because I can’t have her yet?
I’m guessing that’s it. Once I’ve fucked her a couple of times and made sure she’s pregnant, I’ve no doubt my desire will drain away and leave me feeling the same way I always do.
Empty.
I can’t stay in bed with her any longer. I won’t be able to resist burying my face between her legs and where will that leave us?
I get up quietly, heading out across the landing to my bedroom. I take a shower and then get dressed. With a suit on, I feel like I’ve clad myself in armor. Nothing can hurt me now.
I head downstairs. Breakfast is waiting. I’m a creature of habit. I wake up the same time every morning when I’m home. The staff have it ready for me every morning.
I eat alone. That suits me.
Giovanni isn’t around much anymore which makes my life easier. When he gets back from his trip with Santina, he’ll find me married and hopefully with Rory pregnant. All his posturing will count for nothing.
I’ll become the Don of the famiglia. Unlimited power at my fingertips. I will be like my father was before the cancer took him. A nod of my head and money rains on a person. A slight shake and they end the day in an unmarked grave.
I sip at my coffee and look out the window at the pond, newspaper open but unread behind me. I remember playing in the pond as a child, splashing around with Giovanni. There weren’t many times he was willing to play with his younger brother so they have remained strong in my memory all these years.
What happened to him? What made him into the asshole he is today?
My father said once that power is like illness. You never know how it’s going to affect a person until they have it.
Giovanni has used his power solely to enrich himself. Often at the cost of good business. He’s taunted the other families. It was him that called the Feds on Moretti, brought the full weight of the RICO Act down on his head. He doesn’t think I know that but I do.
That’s what started all of this. The Feds took Moretti’s wealth. He came to us for help. We sent him away. He got it into his head we sold him out. He moves from begging to mocking and threatening us. We kill him for the insult. Giovanni tries to get me killed at the same time. Has he maybe been planning this from the start? Maybe he made the call to the Feds?
It would explain a lot, for sure. Explain how he hoped to tie up all the loose ends in one go and get himself made head of the famiglia.
Only he never planned for the spanner in the works.
Rory. The last of the Moretti name. About to be united with me. Tomorrow at five, we tie the knot. The thought makes me smile. The smile grows as I think of how pissed Giovanni is going to be when he finds out.
I turn back to my newspaper. There’s no stories in there about us. Payments to the editor are still working.
We must be the most famous family in the city to never appear in the newspapers. The Internet’s another story. Our name pops up there from time to time but with lawyers as good as ours, nothing ever sticks. As far as the world knows, we’re just businessmen. No one needs to know what kind of business.
The people business, my father used to say. We’re not moving money. We’re not buying and selling goods. We’re working with people. Win the people over and you can rob them while they smile back at you. Lose the people and you won’t get a penny without a lot of bloodshed.
That’s what I’m thinking about when she walks in. Win the people over. “Good morning,” I tell her, motioning toward the seat opposite mine. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
The door through to the kitchen opens and a maid comes through with coffee for Rory.
I watch her in silence for a moment before folding up my paper. “You’re looking at me,” she says as the maid leaves. “Why?”
“I want to give you something.”
“What?”
“Call it an act of good faith. A gesture.” I pull out the new cellphone I got for her and punch in a number. I slide the phone across the table to her. “Pick it up.”
“Why?” she asks, looking down at the phone screen. “Whose number is that?”
“Pick it up and find out.”
