“It was a close call,” Jett confirms. “And this is what the boss wants. If we fail him twice with you….”
He trails off, and I get the implication.
“Please just make our jobs easier, Ms. Bellamorte,” Darius says, stepping back to make room for me to get into the back seat of the SUV.
I split a glance between them. And sigh. The charcoal wool dress with the square neckline was really pretty.
“Fine,” I say.
Jett nods and moves to put my bags in the trunk, while Darius takes my hand and helps me into the back of the car.
“We need to be back on the road in 90 minutes to get you to the airfield in time.
“How about an hour and 45 minutes? I need to get the food together as well.” When Jett looks skeptical, I laugh. “Don’t worry. I don’t take long to get ready, I promise. Look at me. I’m not fancy.”
He almost smiles. “An hour 40.”
Vin may not let me hang back by the food, and the thought has me terrified. But this is a hard day for him, and it’s just one day. One day of supporting him through his grief. One day of being incredibly uncomfortable. One day of wearing a dress that costs more than my restaurant’s rent, so that I don’t break my word.
33
VIN
Aurelio Demonio spent 40 years building this shit show of an empire, and now I’m inheriting the fucking mess.
I stand in the back of the indoor part of the pavilion outfitted for the purpose of saying good-bye to my father. All glass walls make the event feel inclusive of the decorated outside grounds, the towering pillars between made more somber by the misty fog outside.
Thousands of white roses climb temporary archways and wrap around the wrought iron fencing that borders the lower lawn. White silk canopies stretch over the outdoor seating, the fabric moving in the cold like it’s breathing. Half the service will be outdoors around the grave site at the far end of the grounds, half inside the main hall where I am.
There are rows of chairs with white bunting, the front rowpartitioned off for me and my brothers in front of a raised platform. Aurelio’s casket is open at the front, the occasional guest stopping to pay their respects.
I half snort into my cup of coffee. I can’t even guess what these fuckers are thinking as they stand there pretending to be sad over my father’s corpse. He was an asshole to everyone. I won’t be surprised if one of these people pulls out a gun and shoots him again just to be sure he’s dead.
As the pavilion and landscaped gardens begin to fill with clustered groups talking in hushed tones, drowning out the soulful string quartet playing in the corner, my mood darkens. The legacy of my father is a heavy weight to take on and bearing it alone feels isolating.
Where is my Sophie?
Matti appears at my elbow, silently scanning the crowd along with me. “You want something stronger?”
I drain the rest of my coffee. “No.”
I need to keep my wits about me. Now that I’m boss, there are a lot of old habits I’m letting go. And just one new one I’d like to start—if she ever gets here.
Tommy joins us, flanking me on the other side.
“It doesn’t feel like it yet,” Tommy says, “but this is a gift, Vin.”
I side eye him before returning my gaze to the crowd. “How’s that?”
“The bones of the organization are good, even if everything elseis lacking. You’ve got something to work with, a place to start,” Tommy says.
I scoff. “In some cases, it would have been easier to start from scratch than repair what he fucked up.”
“True,” Matti agrees. “But in other cases, he did the work for you. All the people who hated him, love you by default. They support you as boss and will work with you in a way they never would have worked with Aurelio.”
“Yes,” says Tommy. “But the few people who stood by him are narcissistic fucks like he was, and they’re just looking for a reason to come for you.”
Like Ronan’s father, the head of the MacCuinn clan. I scan the crowd for them. None of the Irish are here yet, but my gaze falls on an older couple that I don’t immediately recognize.
