“We’re having a tea party.”
“Are you now? With a good, proper cup of tea?”
“I don’t know. It’s just tea.” Stacey shrugged and continued to stare at him. He knew that look. He used to hate that look on Delilah’s face when her useless da was around.
“I’m feelin’ a bit parched. You think you could spot me a cup?”
Stacey smiled and nodded, nearly unseating her tiara. She took him by the hand and led him into her play room, a domain he hadn’t set foot in yet.
Toys lined the walls, housed on shelves and in cubbies. A dollhouse bigger than Stacey was up against one wall, open and spilling out miniature furniture. A small table sat in the wide window, the chairs filled with stuffed animals.
Ian lowered himself to the floor, opting out of displacing one of Stacey’s other guests, and sat cross-legged.
“I have to be very careful.” She grasped the teapot with both hands.
Ian frowned. Was there...condensation on the thing?
Stacey very carefully poured a stream of brown liquid into a plastic cup.
“I’ll be... Huh. Thank you, Princess Stacey.” Ian picked up the cup. It wasn’t more than a moderate mouthful, but it looked like real tea. “Did you make this?”
“No, Taylor did.” Stacey set the pot down and took a seat across from him.
He sipped the tea. Cold. Sweet. Some sort of store, box blend if he had to guess. Not bad, it hadn’t steeped long enough to get bitter. But it was cold. Ice cold.
“Stacey, do you want to wear the blue or the purple tonight?” Taylor rounded the corner into the room holding two things that looked a bit like shapeless cupcakes, all ruffles and lace. She stopped short, blinking at him. “Oh...”
“Prince Ian’s having tea with me,” Stacey proclaimed.
“I see that.” Taylor took a few steps closer. “I thought you were going to wait for me to pour the tea. Did everyone get some?”
“Yes, and I didn’t spill. Only a few drops.” Stacey drew on the table with her finger.
“Oh, okay. I can wipe it down later. Now, purple or blue?”
“Purple.”
“All right, you’d better not open the cookies without me, understand?” Taylor wagged her finger at them. “I know how you hate waiting, Ian, but you already got tea without me.” She turned and strode out of the room, purpose in her stride.
“They’re frosted cookies,” Stacey whispered.
“Well, then Miss Taylor had better hurry up, hadn’t she?” Ian winked at Stacey, who giggled as only a little girl could. “Where you wearin’ the pretty dress to?”
“Dinner with daddy.” The light in Stacey’s eyes dimmed a bit.
“Oh, so tonight, then?”
“Yeah. He said we’re going to eat at a fancy place with some of his friends.” Stacey wrinkled her nose, something she must have picked up from Taylor.
“What’s wrong with your da’s friends?”
“I don’t like them. They aren’t nice.”
Ian was willing to bet George’s friends were anything but nice or good, but without proof or some sort of evidence in hand it was just a gut feeling.
Taylor re-entered without the dresses. How early had she woken up today? If she hadn’t told him when she usually woke up, just to beat Stacey to the punch, he’d never have guessed her day routinely started at five or before.
Taylor took up a spot opposite of him on a pile of cushions.
“Cookies?” Stacey clasped her hands in her lap.
“Did you give everyone napkins?” Taylor glanced around at the table. “I don’t think Ian has one.”
Stacey dutifully presented him with a pink, floral napkin for his cookie, while Taylor opened a small, snack-sized package and passed two out to the living, breathing contingent. Everyone else got fake fruit with their real tea.
Ian bit into the frosted oatmeal cookie. It was a shame George kept his daughter cooped up like this. From the comments Taylor had made, Ian assumed Stacey wasn’t often allowed out for other activities.
“Does your niece like tea parties?” Stacey asked.
“Delilah loves tea parties.” He leaned forward, matching Stacey’s grin with his own. “And she loves cookies. You two would get on swimin’ly.”
“Can she come for tea tomorrow?”
“Hm, I don’t know.” Ian considered it for a moment. If George were anyone else, if Ian didn’t have reservations about the man, he’d at least ask his twin if it was okay. But the last thing his sister needed was more trouble. And George was trouble.
“Don’t be hurt if she can’t. Ian doesn’t live close to us.” Taylor reached over and brushed crumbs from Stacey’s lap into her hand.
“Your niece’s name is...is...Delilah? The one with the...the...things?” She closed one eye, half her face scrunched up.
“Very good. Yes, her name is Delilah and she dressed up as Cinderella for her birthday. You might have seen pictures of her with my friend.” Ian pulled out his cell phone and tapped the folder with his personal pictures from the party. He turned the screen toward Stacey, showing her a candid shot of Owen holding Delilah’s hands as they danced without her crutches.
“She’s pretty.” Stacey reached out and touched the screen, flicking it to another image.
“Oh, Stacey darling, we don’t touch people’s phones,” Taylor said.
“I forgot.” Stacey pulled her hands back, face creased.
“This time it’s okay. This is my sister.” He laid the phone on the table. “She’s the better lookin’ twin. And you’re right, Delilah does have crutches. When she was born, the doctors said she wouldn’t be able to walk, but a few years ago, some new doctors found a way for her to get around on her own. So now she has crutches and she’s always on the go.”
One by one, he walked Stacey through the pictures, telling Stacey stories about the party, his friends and stupid things he’d done with his sister. Taylor and Stacey were an animated, enthralled audience, laughing and gasping at all the right spots.
Delilah would really like these two, but Ian wouldn’t feel right about bringing his niece here. He’d have to explain it to Taylor and figure out a way to let Stacey down gently.
9.
Julia glanced up from her desk at the flustered face of her assistant, a sharp young woman who was as meek as a mouse.
“What?” Julia had heard the doorbell, but hadn’t given it much thought. Maybe that was a mistake?
“Um, Danny Touhy is here to see you—”
“Julia.” Danny shoved his jacket into her assistant’s hands, never taking his gaze off Julia.
“Danny.” Julia smiled and set her pen down. Sweat broke out along her spine, brow and between her breasts. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Give us a minute?” Danny said, narrowing his gaze.
“Go on.” Julia waved her assistant out the door.
The young woman closed the door behind her, leaving Julia facing Danny on her own.
She could kill him right here and now, but that wouldn’t get her results, just satisfaction.
“Word is, you had Taylor killed.” Danny planted his hands on his hips, frown lines deepening.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Julia shrugged. Taylor wasn’t dead—yet—so she wouldn’t admit to anything.
“Taylor’s gone. Her apartment was cleared out and she’s been a no-show to her job for months. What did you do with her? You knew the boss had plans.”
“I didn’t do anything.” Julia leaned back in her chair. “I imagine Taylor realized her predicament and skipped town. She’s not entirely stupid.”
“I’ve had five guys tell me you ordered Vito to off her.”
“And it would appear that both Vito and Taylor have left town. Sounds like a couple of cowards to me, and not worth my time.”
“You think you’re cute, playing boss like this, don’t you?” Danny frowned.
She hated that look, the patronizing on
e that telegraphed she wasn’t half as good as a man. Well, she had the books to prove that before her, the precious Lucchese family hadn’t been worth shit. But after her? They’d become a profitable enterprise.
“I’m not playing at anything, Danny. I’m running a business. I’d dare say you’re getting more money from me than any other three guys put together.” Julia leaned back. She’d run the numbers. That was what she was good at. All those years ago, she’d started out working for her uncle, running bets, tallying them up and figured out pretty quick how to turn a buck into five. It was her gift.
“Is that so?”
Shit.
Julia kept her smile screwed on tight.
She needed to push updating the books into overdrive. No, she couldn’t account for everything without the files, but she could make some shit up to get everything to tally right.
“Come to think of it, I never saw the papers from our last quarter,” Danny said slowly.
“You got the money, didn’t you?” She’d tossed in a few extra grand to turn some heads and get them to forget about the books.
“Yeah, you sure did bring in a lot last quarter. Say, how’d you do that?”
“Got a new thing going. I can have my guys tell you all about it.” Julia shouldn’t make that jab, but she couldn’t resist. Working with the MS-13 gang instead of against them was turning out to be a good partnership.
“I think you should present these ideas to the boss. Maybe he could make use of them. I bet he’d like to know where his money is coming from.”
“I’d be happy to.”
“I’ll be in touch. And Julia? I hope those guys are wrong.”
She didn’t reply or bat an eyelash.
Danny left the office and she listened to his footsteps down the hall toward the entry.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Julia threw her pen down.
Recreating the files for the last year was going to be a pain in the ass. That would be hours of work massaging the data, but she could do it. She’d have to.
The boss clearly wanted Taylor back so he could marry her off to someone he had his eye on. The problem there was that Taylor would refuse and likely end up dead, so all around, it might be the better option to let someone else take care of that problem for her. But that would also mean giving credence to whoever she married usurping Julia’s seat at the head of the family.
“Madeline?” Julia bellowed.
God, she was going to hate doing this.
“Yes, ma’am?” Her assistant ducked around the door.
“I need a priest and a marriage license.”
“On it.” To Madeline’s credit she only hesitated a little.
She’d killed one Lucchese, what was two more?
If Julia could ensure Taylor’s death and her own marriage to Vito, that would leave her as the only viable option when Vito met an unfortunate end. A car accident or something that wouldn’t necessarily lead back to Julia.
Julia pushed to her feet and crossed the house, down to the basement.
Vito was now tied and chained to the chair and the wall. He sported two black eyes and multiple bruises.
It was easy to forget that behind that docile exterior, Vito was really a giant of a man. He’d broken one guy’s arm and knocked another out, nearly escaping out the back door before two guys had stopped him.
“What do you want?” Vito picked up his head and glared at her. Or maybe it was just a stare. It was hard to tell with both eyes swollen nearly shut.
“It’s your lucky day, Vito. I’m not going to kill you after all.”
“What are you going to do, then? Brick up the basement and leave me here to die?”
“No, silly.” She chuckled and crossed the room. “I’m going to make you a deal. Marry me, and I’ll think about sparing Taylor’s life when I find her.”
Vito laughed, a rough, gravely sound.
“All right, I guess we’ll have to do this the hard way.” She sighed.
“Wait.”
“Hm?”
“Are you serious?”
Julia took a couple steps closer, peering at the young man’s face.
“Why are you so loyal to that girl?” she asked. “What has Taylor ever done for you?”
“Nothing.” Vito glanced away.
“You love her.” Julia bent at the waist, staring into Vito’s eyes. “So, you know then?”
“Know what?”
“You know the truth.”
“You’re crazy.” Vito turned his head.
“You know she’s not really your cousin. She’s only a Lucchese because her mother was married to Gaetano. You’re in love with Taylor, aren’t you? Oh, that’s cute.” Julia would have to tread carefully. Vito could be persuaded to go along with things, if she played him right. “If you want me to spare Taylor’s life, you’ll tell the priest when he gets here that you want to marry me. If not, I’ll kill Taylor and you. The choice is yours.”
Julia turned on her heel and climbed the stairs.
Five... Four... Three... Two...
“All right. Fine. Okay. I’ll do it,” Vito said.
Julia smiled at nothing.
Who was the bitch on top now?
Taylor’s ovaries were going to explode just watching Ian’s animated face recounting stories to Stacey. It was too much. Part of the reason she’d gone into teaching was to satisfy that internal desire to nurture children. She’d figured out pretty fast, after her ill-conceived marriage didn’t buy her the get out of the family pass she’d wanted, that having children would be a crime against the future. There wasn’t anything she could do to change who she was. Or at least, who everyone thought she was.
She’d been all of ten when she’d learned that her father was not her father. Oddly enough, he’d told her to her face that she wasn’t his daughter. Her parents had been fighting, a strange occurrence, given how docile and meek her mother was in the face of opposition. Mom was the kind of woman who fought back in the silent, unseen ways. Little things.
Taylor had always known that her parents didn’t love each other.
Her mother was a descendant of some of the oldest families in the business. Sort of like mafia royalty. And her father was a rising star. From what Taylor had patched together, they’d had what amounted to an arranged marriage that ended in a disaster named Julia.
How different her childhood had been from Stacey’s, and still the same.
Taylor’s phone vibrated, her alarm going off.
“Shoot. Stacey? We’ve got to get you dressed.”
She pushed to her feet and held out her hand to Stacey.
Taylor hated these dinner dates. Stacey still enjoyed them, but even the little girl was beginning to pick up on how not-right things were. Still, Taylor managed to keep her smile in place while she hustled Stacey through getting dressed. She insisted on going back to the play room to ask Ian a couple of questions while Taylor combed her hair.
By the time George texted to find out where they were, Stacey was dressed and presentable. Taylor stuffed her own emotions down deep inside. Her father, not George but her mother’s husband, had used her like this. She’d gone to meetings just like the ones Stacey went to. They weren’t really daddy-daughter dates. Sure, Stacey was going out with George, but she was a shield. A living, breathing shield. A lot of people George did business with were less likely to do anything with Stacey around.
But not all of George’s enemies would hesitate because of a little girl. Taylor’s father wouldn’t have, and neither would Julia. Which was enough of a reason to not stick around much longer. Stacey would have enough to deal with, without Taylor bringing more trouble around.
She wrung her hands, watching Josh hand Stacey into the car after her father. They had the new guy with them, which meant, with Cat off for the night doing whatever it was she did on the side, it was just the remaining security, Ian and her in the house.
It’d been a night like this one when she’d gone to a bar
to pick up a guy for a little fun. Only difference was that Cat had planned to be back earlier than usual from visiting her sister, so she’d covered putting Stacey to bed.
Taylor stood in the entry way, staring out the window for several long moments.
“What are you thinkin’?” Ian’s voice was soft. She hadn’t even heard him follow them down.
“Nothing.” Taylor pasted on a smile and turned toward Ian.
“I’ve got that apology ready.”
“What?”
“My apology.” He held out his hand.
She glanced from his outstretched palm to his face.
What kind of trick was this?
She was used to men working an angle. Ian was, too, though his was at least a bit more honest.
“I won’t bite, unless you ask me to.” He grinned at her, but it wasn’t the same way he’d grinned at Stacey.
Taylor swallowed and took his hand. He tugged her forward and she walked straight into his arms. He flattened his hands against her back, tucking her in close under his chin.
“She’ll be all right,” he whispered.
“You don’t know that.”
“The guys he’s meetin’ with tonight are all fluff. Nothin’ bad.”
“Yeah, but you can’t account for before or after. What if something happens then?”
Ian didn’t reply. He kissed her brow, offering her what comfort he could. A normal person couldn’t understand what it was like to grow up as a daughter of a family mired in crime. Even a routine trip to the grocery store or out to get the mail was fraught with danger. Growing up, one of her friends’ fathers had died while picking up toys in their backyard.
“Come on.” Ian took her hand and led her into the kitchen.
“Cat doesn’t like us in here when she’s off.”
“Yeah, well, I cleared this with her. Sit.” He nudged her toward one of the barstools. “What’s on your mind?”
“When can I go to bed?”
“Oh, it’s early still.” Ian leaned down and opened the wine cooler.
“You can’t steal from there. Cat keeps a log of everything.”
“It’s not stealin’ if it was mine to begin with.” Ian set a bottle of wine on the counter and straightened. “I just borrowed space is all.”
Alpha Prince (Twisted Royals, #1) Page 8
