“Yes, we have a credential already for that.”
“And who do you think is capable of pulling that credential?” I said. The silence at the end of the line was immensely satisfying. Fuck, it was almost better than sex, that moment when you realized you’d gotten the upper hand on someone. “You know what, I’ll even strike a deal with you, because I’m a nice guy. Have whoever is coming tonight write a nice piece about our family. I’m sure you won’t have to work hard to find some good angles.”
“I—”
“But it has to benice, understand? I want anyone reading it to be so clear about which family is running Vegas the best that no one would ever want to utter the name ‘Morril.’ Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
“Well, Mr. Vale, tonight’s auction is to raise funds for youth artists, so I would imagine?—”
“There’s nothing to imagine, Editor,” I said. Like I said, an asshole, but not sloppy; calling someone the wrong name had a strange way of making people act irrationally. An irrational blackjack dealer might annoy you; an irrational editor could publish bad pieces. That didn’t mean he had power; we had me, Lucas, and Dante, that was power enough.
We just weren’t stupid.
“Do what has to be done,” I said. “I have to go. If you need anything, pass it on through your journalist tonight. I’ll see them at the auction.”
I disconnected the call and stood up. Dante had his arms folded and his sleeves rolled up; when he did this, the tattoos on his arms were visible. He was smart enough not to do that in meetings with politicians, but he liked to do it around the office, just a gentle way to let our employees know that if they treated us well with good work, we’d treat them well. If they fucked with us…
Would you fuck with a man like Dante? The only ones who should say yes to that were the three of us.
Lucas was the most unassuming of all of us, but that only meant he had tricks up his sleeve. Lucas was the one who could most easily pass for “Average Joe” while pumping gas. Of course, he was a very handsome and well-dressed “Average Joe,” but he liked to lie low, the better to plan a massive surprise of some kind. Lucas, in many ways, was responsible for negotiating an incredible deal on property taxes here; as simple as it was, he had collected some damning info on the Vegas official we were negotiating with simply by trailing him like a PI would.
“What?” I said simply.
“You know how the Morrils started out with the pussy shit article about Sarah?” Lucas said. I nodded; how could any of us forget? It had been so bad, so mediocre, we’d shared bourbon at Cassius’ penthouse and mocked it out loud. “Well, seems like they figured out they’re not going to win that battle.”
“What a fucking shock,” I said. “I almost wonder why I’m playing this game. I suppose it’s a deterrent, but whatever. Anyway, I’m going to guess that’s not why you came in here.”
“No, it’s not,” Dante said. “It seems like they’re trying to go straight for us as a family. The rumors I’ve heard are that they’retrying to paint our family as a bunch of alcoholic sociopaths. Including our parents. Including Virgil.”
The first few sentences meant nothing to me. Alcoholic sociopaths? Compared to some of the shit I’d heard that I supposedly shouldn’t have or even some of the shit said to my face, that was a downright compliment. Our parents were dead, we loved them, and we’d fight someone if they talked dirty about them. But they had taught us to let shit slide off, and at the end of the day they wouldn’t have cared.
But Virgil?
They were going to try to paintfucking Virgilas an alcoholic sociopath?
That would be a fucking step too far. Call us assholes, call us evil, call us everything wrong with America… we didn’t give a fuck. But there was ruthless, there was morally gray, and there was downright evil.
I understood that being a billionaire meant making envious enemies and having to fight bullshit. Fine. But to go after our brother meant a fucking war. This was going to escalate past mere press fluff one way or another.
“We will keep an eye on things,” I said. I was deliberately speaking less than I felt, but my tone of voice gave away how I felt . “Should the Morrils decide to pursue this path, Dante, Lucas, I trust that you two will know how to make them suffer. To really fucking suffer as we did.”
“Of course,” Lucas said. “You just ought to know what’s coming.”
I nodded and shrugged.
“Well, that’s one way to end a fucking workday,” I said. “But for now, I think it’s time we get ready for tonight, don’t you?”
Allure.
I had been the one to pick the name of our art gallery out. I wanted something that could have multiple meanings, that could be both a subject and a verb, and something that both spoke to art and, frankly, represented me. Of all the Vale brothers, I dressed the best and presented the best.
It’s not that the others didn’t know how to dress well. But a lot of that had to do with hired help. They didn’t have the instinct for it.
I did. I knew how to be flashy without being ostentatious or stupid; I knew how to present wealth without becoming crass.Allurefelt like the perfect name to describe the kind of guy I was; someone who would draw eyes, someone you could not take your attention off of, but not someone unnecessarily gaudy or trying too hard.
With Lucas and Dante by my side, I walked to the entrance, fully aware that cameras would snap photos of us. As we got closer and the cameras perked up, I put my hand to my tie, as if adjusting.
But really, they needed to capture my signature diamond cufflinks; made of real, authentic diamonds, imported from South Africa, this was the kind of shit you could only get with true money. You weren’t going to fucking Jared’s or Kay Jeweler’s and getting this good stuff.
