“Oh.” Tapping her heeled foot, Vicki dropped her arms. “Then doesn't that mean he’s fine to be here?”
I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Sure, I guess.”
She narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything else.
“Was Gio with you today?”
“No, I went with Justine. Why?”
“No reason. I haven't seen him in a few days, that’s all.”
I made it a point not to talk business with my sister, even if she was arranged to marry my closest friend. If our mother was still alive, we’d have the same rule for her.
“Then call him, dumbass.”
“Thanks, I can figure it out for myself.”
With a tittering laugh, she headed down the hallway, her skirt swishing behind her.
I loved my sister, but she was a spoiled brat. Gio would have his hands full with her, I was positive.
Then again, maybe he knew that already. We’d been around each other’s families enough over the years that we were practically brothers.
And they seemed to truly love one another—not that I understood much about that myself—so he probably knew what he was getting into.
My mind was still on Dr. Wentworth when I went to my home office. With Dad sick, the running of the businesses fell to me. Shipments were only a small part of our day, and that was only to cover for the less legal dealings.
Mostly, we ran weapons of the specialty kind. Arms and ammunition that weren’t allowed in the US could be bought for an exorbitant price if one tried hard enough. It was a dangerous business, considering that we dealt with countries that weren’t afraid to kill us, take the money, and keep the weapons to sell to someone else instead of holding up their end of the bargain.
When we were nearing a buy, I wouldn't be available at all for the forty-eight hours ahead of time. We planned the location, the swap, and the men down to the most minute details. Anything less and we’d find ourselves holding the short end of the stick. Foreign nationals were notorious for trying to change up the minutiae at the last minute, either to throw us off our game or to actually try to do damage.
I was expecting Lorenzo Mancini to stop by, so I set up the liquor cart and put out his favorite cigarettes. There were staff who could do that instead, but something about doing it soothed me. Maybe I was a housekeeper in another life.
While I waited, I set up the surveillance of Dr. Sailor Wentworth of Grandview General Hospital. My guy would tail her around town, back and forth to the mansion, and see if she met with anyone interesting. For all I knew, I was being paranoid, but I didn't trust easily and had no reason to.
When the butler informed me Mancini had arrived, I set aside everything else and waited expectantly.
“Noah,” he greeted me as he came in my open door.
“Lorenzo.”
We shook hands before sitting down, and I gestured to the cart. “Please, take what you want.”
“Thank you for offering,” he said as he lit a cigarette.
“It’s nothing.”
Any long-standing associate deserved whatever I could give them when they were as loyal as Lorenzo. We spent the next few hours hashing out the plan for the upcoming buy, but I found I couldn't concentrate as thoroughly as I wanted to. My father’s health was always at the back of my mind, and now Sailor resided there too.
And I could be wrong entirely. She could be exactly who she claimed, and the hospital could have sent who they thought would match the best with my dad. We gave them lavish amounts of money each month to keep their mouths shut about what they saw and who they treated, and I knew they wouldn't intentionally send anyone who couldn't care for my father properly.
But what if she had them fooled, too?
Suspicion came with the territory, of course, but my brain was like a dog with a bone. It refused to let go of this scenario it had conjured up. If she was sent here to harm him somehow or just not do her job right, then who would benefit from such a scheme? The Russos? The Lombardis? They were technically our enemies, but nobody had tried any outright maneuvers inyears. Subtlety was more their style, and interfering with my father’s doctor would only gain them me as their rival sooner than expected. Trading one don for the next wasn't an issue unless the successor was weak.
Which I most certainly was not.
At thirty-six, I’d spent decades working at my father’s side. None of the other families saw me as weak or unprepared to take over. By that point, it was probably an expected announcement, untimed but inevitable. The only reason we hadn't made it official yet was that I didn't want my father to feel like he had nothing left to live for when he was still thriving.
