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I drummed my fingers on the tabletop. "I think that would be best, don't you? We can arrange for shipment in the next few days."
"We? As in you and Ricardo?" he asked. His voice perked up like he was suddenly more intrigued by that than he was the whole going to war idea.
"Not quite. I'll explain more. Prepare for two, please. And save this number."
"Very well, Dante. It was good to speak with you, old friend." Pharrell hung up without another word. I turned to find Preacher looking more confused than ever.
I laughed as I slid his phone back over. "So that's Pharrell. He's a character."
"What was all that about the food poisoning dinner? It sounded a lot like he was flirting with you," he grumbled.
"Not one bit. I actually think he might have a thing for Ricardo, sadly. Back to the point. That night when Ricardo left, I spoke with Pharrell at length about what we would do if a war ever came. He and I made contingency plans that should be enacted in the event my father's power ever became too much."
He sat back in his chair, his jaw wide at my words. "You really have been planning it all this time, haven't you?"
It clicked for me then.
Preacher had thought I was trapped under my father's hold, a victim to his power. And while to the outside eye that might have been the case, I was very much free to plot against him. In fact, I had been and will continue to do so until I was at the head of the Romano line.
It wasn't even about power. Nothing I did was to that extent.
I merely wanted the freedom to live how I chose. And I wanted that for others too.
There was no doubt in my mind I wasn't the only gay mafia member to ever exist. I knew there were others before me and some that were around now. As times changed outside the organization, more and more people would need to accept that not everything went along with the 'old' way of doing things.
It was a new era for the Romano family. I just had to hope that through it all, Preacher and I would survive so we could lead the newly formed family together.
CHAPTER TWELVE
PREACHER
Vegas washotter than Satan's asshole. Sweat poured from every inch of me with just the walk from the private plane to the car Pharrell Lyon had arranged for us. The plane was on loan from Tank, and I was under strict orders to be back within a week, so he didn't have to "go on a killing spree again."
Asshole.
"It's been so long since I've been back. I can't believe so much has changed," my boy mused from beside me. His eyes flitted between both sides of the car as we drove down the strip.
We turned off at one of the larger hotels, then we were whisked inside. An attendant gave us keys and directed us to our floor. It wasn't until we got off the elevator that I realized we were staying in a very large suite.
"Pharrell must be a good friend," I quipped as I took in the massive space. This wasn't something you just did for a friend. And for some reason, no matter how much I tried to believe it, my brain kept believing there was more to the story between the two men.
Dante left his position by the windows to come wrap his arms around me. I absorbed the love I felt pouring from him through his tight hold.
"Daddy," he sing-songed. "There is no one else in the world more made for me than you. Pharrell and I were never romantically involved. Never. He's a nice man, but he was never you. No one ever was. You were my first, my last, my only."
Fuck.
Love and lust warred within me, sending mixed signals directing me to fuck him silly while also making love to him. It was all a mess in my mind, so I did the only thing I could think of to calm down. I kissed him.
And that kiss. Well... it definitely proved to me what was most important.
Dante. Always Dante.
He was the beginning and end of my world. My thoughts and actions centered around him.
"Good. I'd hate to have to fucking kill our biggest ally because he thought he had a chance with you."
My boy grinned up at me like my words made him happy. I couldn't imagine most normal relationships being happy about possible murder when jealous, but who knew? Maybe I had it all wrong.
