“Sir.” He stops at the threshold, his hand gesturing for me to stay put so I can’t see into the office yet. “Mr. Monroe is here.”
Every time I hear someone refer to me with that name, I hate it. Mr. Monroe is my father, not me, but I can’t change that. What I can change is what my last name can stand for in the future. In that, War and I have something in common. He too has spent the last two decades cleaning up the Marino name.
“Send him in,” I hear War’s deep voice say, and the guard steps to the side so that I can enter. When I do, I see his wife, Tova, getting up from his lap, her hand dropping away from his face. She has those same wild dark curls that her daughter has, except Naomi is always trying to keep them pulled back, whereas her mom lets them be.
Naomi really is the spitting image of her mother except for those icy blue eyes. Those she gets from her father. While that may be the only physical trait Naomi shares with her father, she has a significant amount of his personality and demeanor. Their mannerisms can be uncanny at times.
“Paxton.” He stands from behind his desk, snagging his wife around her waist to pull her into his side. She melts right into him, and I can’t help the jealousy that fills me. In time, I’ll have the same. “Do you remember Paxton?” War asks her.
“I think so.” She tilts her head, giving a soft smile.
“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Marino.”
“Tova, please,” she corrects. “It’s nice to see you as well, but I’m going to leave you both to it.” Tova drops her head all the way back, and a rare smile forms on War’s face as he leans down to kiss her before she’s heading out of the office, closing the doors behind her.
“Sit.” He motions to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Can I offer you a drink?” War gives a slight nod to a whiskey bar off to the side.
“I don’t drink but thank you.” I take the seat.
“That’s right, I forgot.” Lie. War Marino doesn’t forget anything, especially about a man he’s let into his home. “I’m sorry about your father.” War sits back down.
“Thank you.” I keep my expression as neutral as his.
“Your father and I had come to an understanding of sorts.” I don’t care what their understanding was before. It died right along with my father.
“I am not my father.”
“I’m not sure who you are.”
“I’m now the man in control of a majority of the docks south of the Carolinas.” That is why we’re here. “A man that’s been getting a lot of interesting phone calls from a lot of Italians.”
“I figured as much. Who?”
“That’s really not your business.”
War leans back in his chair. “You branched out from your father. Took over all of California.” I did, and it wasn’t fucking easy. Things are a lot different on the West Coast. But I’d done that without my father, all on my own. I had to rub up on a lot of wealthy people and politicians. My docks are cleaner. “It’s going to be hard to manage two coasts.”
“That’s a me problem.”
“What are you even running out of California? You’re a clean-cut boy.”
“It’s clean enough that I keep most happy out there.” Art. That’s the dealings there. I might appear clean, but my hands are dirty too. I hadn’t been given much of a choice in that matter from a very young age. Maybe if my father had let me be, he’d still be alive.
Art is always needing to be moved. Stolen from one person for another or pieces no one should have at all. You’d be surprised how cutthroat they could be about it. I find it all rather humorous. I’ve watched one painting being stolen three times.Back and forth it goes, but that isn’t my business. I just get the shit where it’s going and make sure no one is any the wiser.
“I’m going to be straight with you, Paxton. Your father did a lot of shit I wasn’t okay with, but we had an understanding. Now with him gone, someone else is going to want it.” The sharks are already circling. It’s rather predictable, most people’s downfall.
“No one could afford it. It’s not for sale.” No, then I wouldn’t get what I was truly after.
“Some things are simply taken.”
“You can try,” I say, not missing a beat and even letting an easy smile pull at my lips. I know how to put people at ease. Usually, I slow my speech and let my Southern drawl catch with a relaxed demeanor, but I know that won’t work here.
“You and I are more alike than you realize.” No, he’s wrong there; I know exactly how similar we are. “We both want to maintain order and make sure things don’t get too sloppy. Others will get sloppy. I heard you fired a lot of his men.”
I did. But the reason for that was twofold. First, I didn’t want them. I didn’t trust them not to turn on me. Second, I would now need protection. Which War is about to offer me.
“I didn’t trust them.”
