Plus itwasfun.
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” I tell him.
He nuzzles at my neck with pleased noises,love you,love you, until I squirm enough to get his dick out of my butt. “Love you, too. That was amazing. Now go get an ice pack for my tits, asshole.”
Chapter Fifty
Carlo
Isleep in a little the next day, and when I get into the office with Bobby Tramonto as an escort—special favor from him to Nicky—the receptionists are fielding angry calls from Miranda Winter’s clients. Papa, when I walk into his office after ignoring his secretary’s advice that he is not to be disturbed, is shouting into the phone. I go over to his vast window and look over the city.
Not bad.
Not as good as last night, but that can be remedied. No reason for me not to entertain Nick Fontana in my new office, after all.
“Admiring the view?” Papa growls after he’s banged the receiver back down. I turn around and see him glance at Tramonto, who’s standing next to the closed door, hands clasped gently in front. But his presence is not enough to blunt my father’s temper. “We have too many problems for you to waste time staring out windows! This bitch Winter—”
“On the contrary,” I tell him with a smile. “I’m delighted to inform you thatyoudon’t have any problems at all.”
His irritation changes slowly to suspicion. “What are you talking about?”
I smile wider, walk back around the desk and sit in the chair opposite. New York City stretches out behind him. I’ll definitely have the desk moved so I can see the view, I decide. Why should clients be the only ones to enjoy it? “I’m talking about your retirement, Papa. You don’t have to worry about Miranda Winter, or me, or the Morelli Family anymore. Ever. Because today’s your last day under all that pressure. Isn’t that good news?” I lean forward. “Aren’t you grateful for the gift I’m giving you?”
He throws his head back and roars with laughter. “Have you been drinking, Giancarlo? Get the hell out of my office.”
“You’re retiring today,” I repeat. “Effective immediately. And I should tell you Papa—this is a decision I’ve come to in consultation with Don Morelli. We are of the same mind in this matter.” Without looking behind me, I raise my hand and flick my fingers forward. I hear Tramonto take a few steps forward and clear his throat.
The way my father’s face suffuses red as he takes that in gives mealmostas much pleasure as Nicky’s cock does.
Almost.
“Now, Papa,” I say, “let me explain to you exactly what’s going to happen.”
* * *
Once my fatherhas left the building, I spend the rest of the day reassigning cases, reassuring the senior partners, and rearranging my new office—or rather, directing people where to move the furniture. I even bill a few hours by calling up the Sardinian supplier, apologizing profusely, and letting them know that the contracts will be drawn up again with the corrected figures—the ones to which they originally agreed.
There’s a part of me that wanted to nudge them down a little further—split the difference between Miranda’s price and mine—but there’s time enough for Bianchi and Associates to start wielding some of our new, more powerful weapons. The senior partners looked genuinely excited when I said we’d be revisiting various guidelines, including the unspoken rules by which we all abide. One or two of those senior partners, I’ve already decided, will have to go. But there are plenty of juniors willing to step up.
It’s time for a churn.
I haven’t heard directly from Don Morelli, despite what I told my father. I’m assuming that no news is good news as far as Luca D’Amato goes. And—if I do my job right—I assume Iwon’thear from him until I’m needed.
Nicky hasn’t heard from him either, which is more of a concern for me. When I get home—because his apartment is most definitely the place I plan to make my home from now own—I’m also a little concerned to find that he’s been doing some redecorating: the Ad Reinhardt black painting has disappeared, leaving an oddly empty place on the wall, even though I never much liked it.
“I’ll get something new to put there,” Nicky says, hugging me suddenly from behind as I stand there staring at the blank wall. I jump a little and he kisses my neck. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“What happened to it?”
“Got some auction house to take it away today for a valuation. Didn’t seem like it fit anymore in here, so I’m getting rid of it.”
I turn around in his arms. “What do you mean, it didn’t fit?”
I think I’ve seen Nicky smile more in the last twenty-four hours than in the entire time I’ve known him. And much of that time included me bargaining for his life. He’s smiling again now, his hands cupping my ass as he leans back a little to take me in. “Things just feel different now,” he says.
I understand that. Despite everything the last few months have brought with them, I’ve never been happier. And never more determined to make Nicky happy, either.
But later, when we’ve eaten and fucked and showered and we’re spooning on the couch watching the late-night news, I do start to wonder again how happy he can really be until he’s made it up with Luca D’Amato. When I ask him how he spent his day, he goes through everything—a walk in Riverside Park, a couple of hours in the apartment’s gym area, talking to Jonesy downstairs, checking out some new art pieces online that he might buy to replace the Reinhardt—there’s a noticeable absence of anything, well, Mob-related. “Any word from the Family?” I ask eventually.
