“Thank you, sir and I will. I’m sure they will send theirs back.”
"Of course. Our two families have always been in alignment," Nikolai folds his hands on the table. His fingers are thin, the knuckles enlarged with age, and his wedding ring is the only jewelery he wears. My mother's been dead for twenty years. He's never taken it off. "I understand you've been discussing opportunities with my son."
"Preliminary conversations. Dom's been very gracious with his time."
My father nods. He doesn't look at me. He’s barely looked at me since he sat down. The message is clear:I am here because you are not handling this adequately.
"The Novikov family has always valued its relationship with the Castellanos," my father says. "Our businesses complement each other. There's no reason that can't continue."
Luca is watching him the way a rabbit watches a hawk that hasn't decided whether to dive yet. "Absolutely."
"But I want to be direct." Nikolai's voice is level, conversational. He could be ordering coffee. "Any arrangement between our families would need to respect the boundaries that have served us both well. Your father understood this. I'm certain you do too."
"Of course."
"Then we're aligned. Dom will follow up with specifics." He pushes his chair back. He's been at the table for less than three minutes. "Good to see you, Luca. Give my best to Bert."
He stands. Luca stands. They shake hands again and my father leaves the table and walks toward the door without waiting for me.
Luca looks at me and for the first time since I arrived, he looks disconcerted. He thought he was just dealing with me but now my father has thrown himself into the mix. Luca doesn’t know if this was a power play or a rescue mission.
I sit back down. "Shall we order?"
Luca recovers quickly. The smile comes back, the ease settles into his shoulders. He picks up the menu as if nothing has happened. "The veal," he says. "I wasn't joking. It's extraordinary."
We order. The food arrives. We eat and talk about nothing in particular. To anyone watching, we are simply two men having a civilized dinner.
Between the main course and dessert, the conversation drifts to business in a way that feels casual but isn't. Luca asks about the Grand's new VIP program. He asks about footfall, about theshift toward online and whether it's eating into the floor traffic. He comments that it's hard to keep good dealers in this market.
They’re all reasonable subjects, the kind of thing any businessman in the gambling trade might ask another over dinner.
He doesn't mention an omega or problems with card counters or people trying to play us.
The silence tells me nothing. Either he doesn't know about Theo, which seems unlikely given that his people are clearly reporting from inside the Grand. Or he knows and he's choosing not to show that card, which means he's saving it. And Luca Castellano doesn't save cards unless he thinks they'll be worth more later.
"You should come out to the Hamptons this summer," Luca says, over espresso. "I'm serious. The place will be done by June. Bring whoever you like."
"Of course, that’d be great." We both know that I won’t go, just as he knows that he doesn’t really want me there.
We settle the bill. Luca insists on paying, which is a small power move, and I let him have it because the small ones don't matter. We shake hands at the door. The men at the bar stand and follow him out.
Viktor brings the car around. I get in. The restaurant disappears in the rear-view mirror and I replay the last two hours and find nothing I can use and nothing I can dismiss.
"Thoughts," I say.
Viktor pulls into traffic. "He didn't ask about the card counter."
"No."
"Which means he either doesn't know or he's waiting."
"Yes."
"Neither option is good."
"No."
When I get back, my father is in my office sitting in my chair, behind my desk. He's reading something on the desk, a printout, and he doesn't look up when I walk in. Viktor stays at the door.
