33. VIN
VIN
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 row partitioned 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 else is 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.
He’s in a dark suit, cheap but pressed and respectable.
She’s in a black dress with a silver broach on the collar.
They speak to no one I know and find their seats quietly.
I watch them for a moment longer, trying to place them.
It’s not until he fully turns that I recognize him: Sophie’s dad.
I pause, taken aback. Sophie’s parents are here. Does that mean she’s here too?
As I pull out my phone, texting Jett for updates on Sophie, people move past me, murmuring their condolences.
Siena’s mother, Bianca, kisses Matti on the cheek and touches my shoulder a little longer than I feel is necessary. She’s a cold bitch and her touch is icy through my suit. I grimace and shrug her off, giving her a quick nod to get her to move along.
She doesn’t take offense like most women would. When she hovers a few seconds after I’ve brushed her off, I look up from my phone to catch her watching me with calculating eyes. I raise an eyebrow and stare her down until Matti tugs on her elbow and guides her away. Fucking weird bitch.
Giovanna’s parents come in through separate entrances though I know they were on the same plane together.
Lorenzo stands in the back of the room, his hands clasped in front of him, looking bored and irritated.
Since Catarina left him, he’s been essentially ousted from the social world he once ruled with her.
For her part, Catarina is working the room like a pro, smiling and leaning in, listening intently to each person. She’s a lot like Giovanna, who appears at her side, a fake smile plastered across her face, looking irritated as she drags her off.
Politicians, including the one Tommy worked with to help secure dock access with the Irish, filter in and repel each other, each a negative ion in its own orbit.
Despite the fact that there is no press here, they all look a little on edge, exposing their connection to the new Demonio Brotherhood.
But they’re here, like everyone else, to pay their respects. To me.
Valentina arrives in a bright red dress woven through with sparkly silver threads that catch the dim light. Like always, she’s too loud, laughing too much, touching men too long. It’s her ‘fuck you’ to my father, and I have to bite back a laugh.
Behind her, is my adopted sister, Olivia. Pale and thin and tall, her short white blonde bob is a contrast to everything about Valentina. She’s usually bubbly and kind but today she’s reserved and quiet, in a light gray dress that makes her look like a ghost.
Then there’s the Irish. They spread out, filtering into the crowd, maybe 20 of them, Ronan, Declan, Luca, and Ronan’s father among them.
And Ashlyn. She has a soft look on her face but her eyes are sharp, scanning the room.
When she sees me, she locks her gaze on mine and gives me the smallest shake of her head. What is that supposed to mean?
I haven’t fully processed how I’m going to deal with that when Ronan catches my eye and gives me a sober nod, which I return, trying to read him.
And where the FUCK is Sophie? I glance at my phone. No response from Jett yet on her location, which is concerning in itself.
Ronan makes his way to me and pulls me into a half hug.
“You look like shit,” he says quietly against my shoulder.
“Appreciate you being here.”
Declan clasps my hand and my shoulder simultaneously, then steps aside as Luca gives me a cold nod, saying nothing as usual.
And then Ashlyn. She is dressed in deep grey that is almost black, her auburn hair pinned at the nape of her neck. She is composed but when she leans in to kiss me on the cheek she whispers, “I didn’t tell them. Please don’t say anything.”
Before I can respond, Ronan puts his hand at the small of Ashlyn’s back and guides her forward.
Immediately, I shift my attention to the door. She said she’d fucking be here. Where is she?
A line is forming in front of me, people who want to pay their respects, but I’m barely listening, irritated when they block my view of the entrance. Someone taps my shoulder to get my attention and I turn—
That’s when I see her in the distance. She’s wearing one of the dresses I picked for her, the one with the square neck, and I cannot fucking take my eyes off her. Her hair is swept up, a few pieces hanging down, and she is carrying a tray covered with a cloth.
She’s here. She came. Thank Christ.
I feel every muscle in my body relax. I forget Ashlyn. I forget Ronan. I forget the politicians and the judges and the cops and the Irish contingent piling up in this line to say shit they don’t mean.
She’s here. I roll my shoulders back. I can do this now.