“Right, right,” she said, taking her glass of red wine. “Rocco mentioned something about going to the hospital. I hope everything is alright.”
“Hope she’s okay,” Isaiah tuned in, and their nonna added her concerns into the mix.
“She’s got some breathing problems, and memory stuff, mood swings.” I unloaded on them, and the weight of it left my shoulders. “So I need to be around to make sure she gets to her appointments, and then I can think about my future.”
She offered support with my mom, just like they all did. I could tell they were the type of family to throw money at anything, but if you stole from them, I imagined your life would end. It was strange being on the inside of something I was usually analyzing over paper and video security clips.
When Rocco came back, the dinner was over, and we needed to head to Palazzo to prepare for the game. I really didn’t know much about it, and everything I did know confused me. The only time I’d ever played poker was on the mobile apps they promoted heavily in ads, and you played with virtual cash.
I was given three jars of the famous Bianchi sauce in a tote bag, and a kiss on the cheek. I felt embraced and loved inthat moment, but I met it with the feeling of impending doom or disaster. I knew that wasn’t coming, but my stomach felt like it.
Roland was all smiles when we got to the car, tipping his head and opening the door for us. I stood in the gravel driveway, staring at the large house in all its cream limestone, like a castle, with a basement cellar, and I could only imagine the horrors that went down in there.
“Come on,” Rocco said. “I wanna get there before Santo.”
Roland took the tote bag from me and placed it in the trunk. The only time I’d felt this type of connection was when I was in vicinity of my superiors and they’d had their assistants, silent but there at all times for absolutely anything.
Rocco tugged on my arm, pulling me into his embrace in the back of the car. He smushed his lips to mine, but the smell of the sweet scotch and the leather car interior just weren’t enough to dispel the feeling that something bad was going to happen.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I—” I sat and let him buckle me in, and his hand rubbed down across me. I liked that he was now the one eager to rub against me. “I—” As my feelings processed and digested themselves, I understood where they came from. “I don’t want to lose my job, or get in trouble for this.”
“You’re not going to,” he said, taking my sweaty palm and rubbing his hand against it. “You’re not going to lose your fancy job, I promise. And you’re not doing anything illegal. All you’re doing iswatching.” He winked at me.
The blacked-out car windows added a certain anxiety to the entire situation. I looked out the window at everything cast in the dark filter. Then back to Rocco. His eyes had been fixed on me. “You’ll protect me.”
He leaned in and kissed me. “I’ll protect you, to the ends of the earth and back,” he said. “You’re going to be ok.ay And as much as I want to take credit for being able to protect you, Ithink all that training you went through would be for nothing if I didn’t acknowledge your ability to protect yourself.”
I giggled. “I can, a little, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need someone to protect me.” I loved the idea of being able to let my guard down long enough to have Rocco protect me at my most vulnerable, when I was in little space—and I was going to get more time to be little if he really meant what he promised.
“After tonight’s game, and we’ve taken your mom to her appointment, I’d like to see your space in New York,” he said.
“We,” I nearly snorted.
Swaying in the back seat from Roland’s driving, Rocco wasn’t buckled into his seat, his heavy body pushing into my thighs. He gripped me for support, chuckling at how we’d become pressed to each other.
“Yes, we,” he said. “I’m invested now.” He winked at me.
He made me feel so tiny and small, in the best way possibly. I wanted to climb onto his lap and be carried inside his pocket.
15. ROCCO
Having Kalen involved in the poker game was an invite of trust, to tell him I felt something special, even if there was a question in the back of my mind about whether other people would see the federal agent in him—although now, I guess it wasmein him, and I hoped my smell had gotten all over him.
The underground poker games happened every three months, but this one hadn’t happened since my father’s death. There was double the usual money, and that meant double the security. The games happened inside the decorated underground basement of the Palazzo. It was accessed through a secret door in my office, hiding behind the messy case of files and paperwork. Once on the hinge, it needed an eight-digit access code and a fingerprint scan—only three worked now. Mine, Santo’s, and Tomaso’s fingers. There were several other access points from the tunnel network, but the only way you could access the game was either through the Palazzo, or one of the doors opened for you from within.
Kalen’s eyes had never been wider—well, perhaps once in the bedroom, but for a different reason.
The room was decorated with red fabric draping the walls, and a vintage wooden cocktail bar where someone would work the evening. Workers came here for big paydays. They signed NDAs and their heads were hooded before entry. We had someone for the bar, and scantily clad women to handle the drinks orders and be arm candy—it wasn’t my preference, but this was all a service forthem, not me. And there was someone to handle the games. For years now, Lorna had been the dealer, and she took no shit from anyone.
It was the first time, as brothers, we’d held the games without our father.
And I didn’t know why we were so worried. Some of the men asked about Tomaso, some of them saying he owed them money, and some of them saying they owed him money. He was the wild one, and we both had to lie and say he was out of state. In reality, he was in the basement, tied to the wall, sleeping on an old, stained mattress and refusing to eat.
The people who came to play were all men, with the exception of one woman, Melinda, she was new money. She’d recently acquired a string of properties north of Boston. They arrived in their fanciest suits and elegant clothes, each one accompanied by a person with a metal briefcase cuffed to their wrist, holding at least a million in cash.
Kalen probably hadn’t ever seen so much money before. He was sitting in the control seat where all the security cameras from inside the room fed into. There was no recording, nothing was stored on them, they were purely for watching over the table at a bird’s eye view.
