He cut me off. “For our family.” He steepled his fingers together. “My loyalty always supersedes.”
His comment reminded me of what I’d told Blair earlier about Arisono’s rules. So much of me was my father.
I rested my elbows on the arms of the chair. “That’s always been clear. Why the interrogation about it?”
“You know this is far from a Marchetti interrogation.”
True. Those usually ended with broken bones and someone bleeding.
He opened his drawer, grabbed a newspaper, and slid it across his desk to me.
Yes, he still read print.
My mom had once bought him a digital subscription to theNew York Times. He responded by burning her credit card, claiming the purchase made him question her principles. She’d laughed in his face, pulled out twenty more cards, and spent the afternoon on a shopping spree at the Hermès storefor his attitude.
I picked up the paper and scratched my head at the headline.
Senator’s Son Killed in a Car Bombing.
Right.That.
“Your work?” my father asked.
I skimmed the article, looking for any clues that led to me, but there was nothing. My father just knew everything.
“He tried to extort Brooks,” I explained.
That rigidness from earlier returned to his face. “You didn’t think to consult me before murdering the son of a public official? Avery publicofficial, who has spent years speaking out against the presidentand me.” He slammed his fist on the desk, rattling everything on it.
I folded the newspaper and set it back onto his desk. “This wasn’t my first murder, and I don’t consult with you before each one.”
His fist opened, one finger stabbingtoward me. “Don’t get cocky, Enzo. That’s what gets men caught or killed.” He lowered his hand and tapped the newspaper on his desk. “You stole the car you drove to the frat house in. Smart.” His finger dragged back toward me. “What you failed to do was make sure no cameras caught you stealing it.” He let the words settle between us before delivering the final blow. “They did.”
I leaned back in the chair, dragging a hand over my forehead, rubbing at the pressure building from my fuckup. “Shit.”
“President Byron and I cleaned up your mess. Paid the people we needed to pay.” His shoulders tensed as he reclined in his chair. “Don’t be sloppy and drag this family into a murder scandal. If you eventhinkof doing something reckless like that again, you come to me first. I’ll make sure it’s handled properly. Got it?”
I pressed my thumbs into my eye sockets and massaged them.
“You and Brooks will be attending the dead son’s funeral.”
My hands stilled.
“President Byron and I will be there as well.”
I dragged a hand down my face and groaned.
“Try to shed a tear.”
“Such things don’t exist in my body. I got that from you.”
A crooked smile played on his lips.
For a moment, the room got lighter. My father was always intense, but I didn’t tend to fuck up much, which meant we didn’t have many conversations like this.
We looked at the door at the sound of a knock. He called for whoever it was to come in.
The door opened, and Benny strolled in, shutting it behind him.
