Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
TONY
I closed my laptop with a sigh. Organizing a full-time personal detail team was a lot of work.
The client was a famous actor in the theater world.
They were coming over from the UK for three months and wanted a local firm to handle personal security since we would know the city better.
It took most of the day to get all the moving parts to work together, but I’d done it.
Michael and Marco were going to be pissed at me for taking this all on myself.
I’d deal with that tomorrow. But tonight, I couldn’t handle going to the dinner with Greg.
I was doing my best to keep our relationship casual.
Having dinner with family and friends seemed too much like a boyfriend thing in my mind.
I rose from my leather office chair and grunted as my bones popped.
I should not feel this old. I wasn’t even forty yet.
I hated to admit it, but my brothers were probably right.
I worked too much and didn’t delegate as much as I should.
Someone else could have easily handled reassuring the client that we had everything in place for their arrival.
So yeah, maybe I was a bit of a control freak.
I got my coat and headed out of my office.
Everyone was long gone, even Michael. I thought I remembered him saying something about a date.
Eating out sounded like a good idea. It was better than being alone in the quiet of my apartment.
The Irish pub around the corner served good meals and had a low-key vibe, so I headed in that direction.
I’d just gotten seated at a table near the back of the restaurant when my phone vibrated with a call. My brows furrowed when I saw it was my cousin.
“Hey, Sal. What’s up?”
“Hey, Tony.” There was a pause before he continued. “I was wondering if we could meet for dinner tonight to talk. If you’re not already busy,” he added hastily.
“I’m at Donaghue’s on 34th if you want to join me. I just got off work.”
“An Irish pub?” Sal scoffed. “Are you serious right now? I happen to know there are three excellent Italian restaurants within walking distance of your office. Uncle Santino taught you better than that.”
I snorted a laugh. “My father never had their Irish red ale. That, along with a nice big bowl of Guinness beef stew? Perfection. Come join me.”
He huffed, and I could practically see his eye roll through the phone. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I had business in Midtown, so I’m not far.”
“Sounds good. I’ll see you when you get here.”
I ordered a pint of red ale and an appetizer to hold me over until Sal got there.
True to his word, he arrived fifteen minutes later.
He was accompanied by two men, both in dark suits.
I saw their eyes sweep the restaurant and land on me.
One of them gave me a quick up-nod before the pair went to sit at the bar.
One of them faced toward the front door.
The other kept an eye on the rear of the place.
Sal took the seat across from me. “So you’re saying I should try the Irish red.”
I studied his face. His expression told me there was more to the question than just beer. “I guess that depends on whether you’re talking about beer or that lovely young man who works at Café Roma.”
Sal’s shoulders slumped, and a wistful smile touched his lips. “He is lovely, isn’t he?”
“He is. He also seems shy and withdrawn.” I tilted my head to the side. “Have you talked to him since I had that chat with the asshole barista?”
Sal shook his head. “I mean, yeah, I talk to him when I go in to get coffee. But I still get the sense that he’s…not scared, but wary.”
I nodded. “I got the sense he wasn’t stupid. He may have an idea of who you are—not specifically—but that you’re a dangerous man. It might take time to convince him that you’re not dangerous to him.”
The server came by to take Sal’s drink order. “I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Do you want to try the stew?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Sure.”
When the server left, Sal leaned his arms on the table. “How can I honestly tell him that I’m not a danger to him? You know what I am and what this life brings to my doorstep. It feels wrong to drag an innocent into all this.”
I took a breath before I spoke, hoping I wasn’t taking my life in my hands. I leaned in and spoke softly. “Have you ever thought about going legit?”
To my surprise, he didn’t look angry, only resigned. “I’ve thought about it. You would think, since my father had only been at it for thirty years before he died, it would be easy to unravel.” He shook his head. “Not so much. I only have the barest inkling of where to start.”
I sat back in my chair when the server arrived with our food and Sal’s beer. She gave us a basket of rolls to go with our stew, and my stomach growled in anticipation. I pointed at Sal’s bowl of stew. “Eat up. I promise you’ll like it. And next time, you can pick the place.”
Sal’s brows rose in surprise. He gave me a quick smile. “It’s a deal.”
It occurred to me in that moment that my cousin must be pretty lonely.
He didn’t have any siblings because his mother died when he was a baby and his father never remarried.
And then my father forbade us from hanging out with my cousin after it became clear he would follow in his father’s footsteps.
That must have sucked for Sal, who’d only been a teenager at the time.
I put down my spoon. “Hey, Sal. If you want help going legit, you can always ask me. I’ll do whatever I can.”
He set his fork down. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. You’re family.”
I might have imagined that his eyes got glassy. “Thanks, Tony. That means a lot to me.” His brow furrowed. “What about Uncle Santino?”
I shrugged. “Pops has mellowed as he’s gotten older. He’s a much better listener than he used to be.”
Sal lifted his glass. “To family.”
I touched mine to his. “To family.”
We chatted about less serious topics as we finished our stew. We both opted for a glass of Irish whiskey to top off the evening. While we were waiting for our drinks, Sal asked, “Why are you eating alone? I thought you had a boyfriend. Luke, wasn’t it?”
It was always a little scary how much my cousin knew about my personal life. “Yeah. I broke up with him a few weeks ago. He asked for an open relationship and apparently didn’t hear me say no.”
“Asshole,” Sal declared.
“Pretty much. Michael figured it out. He never liked Luke, and he suspected the man was cheating on me.”
He smiled wistfully. “I like that your brother takes care of you.”
“We take care of each other.” I looked him in the eye. “Family takes care of each other.”
Sal tilted his head in acknowledgment. “So you’re taking a break from dating?”
My sigh came all the way up from my toes. “Sort of.”
His brows rose. “That sigh has a long story behind it.”
“Yeah, it does,” I replied. I told him the whole complicated story, up to and including tonight’s dinner with Jeremy and company.
When I was done, Sal held my gaze in contemplative silence. “He’s scared.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “I think he’s afraid of getting trapped in another abusive relationship.”
“But he has to know you aren’t like that,” he objected.
“I’m sure he does know, logically,” I replied. “But trauma doesn’t work that way. The fear response isn’t always logical.”
Sal’s lips twisted in a sad smile. “Don’t I know it.”
I wasn’t about to ask what Sal was afraid of. I couldn’t begin to imagine, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to. “I don’t know what to do. I go between wanting to call it off completely and wanting to push to make him see I’m not like his ex.”
“What does your gut tell you?”
My shoulders slumped in resignation. “That neither of those will get me what I want.”
“And you’re sure he’s what you want?” Sal asked. “You said you tend to get into serious relationships too quickly.”
I rubbed my hand over my eyes. “That’s the thing. I thought so too at the beginning. But this feels different. I don’t even know why. I’m worried it’s wishful thinking again.”
“You want my opinion?”
Might as well. I’ve gotten everyone else’s. “Sure. You’re not as involved in my life as my brothers are. They’re overprotective and tend to overreact. Especially Marco.”
Sal smirked. “I can see that. He’s always been intense.”
“Tell me about it.” I took another sip of my whiskey. “So what’s your opinion?”
“I think this means more to Greg than he’s letting on. He’s having dinner with your brother and his fiancé. Maybe give him time to figure out he’s safe with you.”
It always came back to that. “I know you’re right. I’m just so damned impatient. I feel like I have an expiration date.”
Then my cousin, Salvatore Vitale, the mob boss, rolled his eyes at me. “Jesus Christ, Anthony. You’re thirty-nine, not a hundred and nine. Knock it off.”
I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. Even better, he joined in the laughter. I waved the server over and ordered two more whiskeys. “Thanks, Sal. I needed that.”
“Any time, cousin. Any time at all.”