Nothing’s changed. We’ve been looking at each other this way since we were kids. Morelli’s the white king, I’m the black. We’re part of the same chess set but too similar and too different to co-exist comfortably.
“Negotiation around the contract has begun,” Eli says. “We have two weeks.”
“Two weeks to do what?” January asks.
She looks nervous, like she’s expecting Morelli to tell her to shut up. But he just smiles at her. “Your ex-fiancé has agreed to discuss a peaceful resolution to our conflict. Until we finalize the details, there’s a truce. He will not contact you and we will not confront him.”
January half-collapses onto Bobby’s shoulder. “Does that mean I might not have to marry him?”
“Youwon’thave to marry him,” Eli says. “Once the contract is signed, he’ll never come near you again.”
From Morelli’s expression it’s far from that simple, but he won’t tell January that. But it doesn’t matter. This contract’s not going to happen because during this truce, I am going to fly to Vegas, invade the Palm Casino and murder Parker.
“What’s a contract?” January asks. “How does it work?”
Morelli paces the edge of the pool, his shoes clicking on the tiles. “I don’t know that it’s appropriate for you to hear this,bella.”
“Please?”
He sighs. “I will say this once. Afterward I want no further discussions. An innocent girl should not be occupied with such things.”
“Yes, Mr. Morelli,” January says, her eyes wide as marbles.
I manage not to mime throwing up.
Eli resumes his pacing. “In the world Velvet House and your ex-fiancé occupy, there are rules—limitations. A man, or an organization, can’t go around doing whatever they want or they’ll be held accountable by larger, more powerful forces. Do you understand?”
“There’s like… a mafia police?”
I laugh at the look on Morelli’s face. He hates talking aboutla famiglia.
“Something like that, Tits,” I say. “Morelli’s gone to the head of a big New York family. He’ll broker an agreement between us and Parker and once it’s in place, it can’t be reneged.”
January goes still as she absorbs what we’ve told her. I like that about her, the way she quietly processes things.
“If Mr. Parker agrees to let me go under this contract, what does he get?”
Morelli’s brows pull together. “We won’t kill him. Now or at any point in the future.”
January presses her hands to her pretty face, and I can tell Bobby and Morelli are thinking they’ve made the right choice. And maybe they have. It’s just not the choice I’ve made.
“What happens if Mr. Parker breaks the contract?” January asks.
“He dies,” Morelli says flatly.
“And we’d get his assets,” Bobby adds. “His buildings, his businesses. His money.”
“All of it?”
I look into the wavering green water. If I had time, I could bait Parker into kicking January or something so we could lay our hands on his moneyandhave the Bianchis waste him. But I’m not going to fuck with a contract. I’ve got two week’s ceasefire to kill Parker while everyone hammers out the details. I’ll hit up the girls at Dreams and find a dancer with a friend at the Palm Casino. Then I’ll dig up my Michael Shore passport and take a commercial flight to Vegas. I’ll drink in the same bars as Parker until he goes to take a piss somewhere and I’ll garrotte him. Easy as pie.
“So, once the contract is in place, all is resolved,” Morelli says. “Soon Parker will be gone from your life forever.”
“Here’s hoping,” I say.
January lets out a laugh. “I can’t believe this is real.”
Bobby lays his hand on top of hers. “You’ll be free. You can go anywhere.”
