We resume our silence until we reach a gas station. I get out to fill the tank. After it's done, I signal her that I will pay and start distancing myself from the car. Call it instinct, but I know that she makes a grab for her phone the moment I'm out of sight. I can even see the movement.
Instead of entering to pay, I hide next to the building and open the app Marcel had installed on my phone, clicking in to listen to what's happening in my car. I hear Russian, and immediately I record so I can have it translated later.
"не могу говорит. думаю что муж знает. он увидел мне убить три человека." Her words seem hurried, her accent quite flawless, but hey, what do I know about Russian?
A brief pause and then I hear my name "Да, Тео был подозрительный. ити один завтра. Пока"
After she hangs up, I send the recording to Marcel and tell him to give me a translation before heading to pay. I'm inside the store for maybe five minutes when the message comes through with the translation.
Can't talk. My husband knows. He saw me kill three men; Yes, Theo was suspicious. Go alone tomorrow. Later.
Marcel follows the text with.
This isn't good. Convince her you don't suspect a thing. If she's a Russian implant, it could really blow in our faces.
I reply that I'll try before deleting all the messages.
Not even a day ago, Bianca and I were planning to visit a fertility doctor to expand our family. Suddenly, not only is she a killer, a liar, but she might also be a fucking Russian spy.
I school my expression and go back to the car. Inside, Bianca gives me a timorous smile, and I have the urge to both strangle her and kiss her.
Kiss her?
Yeah, I must be as sick as she is.
CHAPTER XI
"Ahh, Marcello! Wait, you go by Marcel these days," The voice on the other line says mockingly.
"Vlad," I reply tensely. He always delights in pushing my buttons.
"What can I do for you, old friend?"
"Did you have fun at our expense last time?" I'm bluffing right now. I'm not entirely sure Bianca is connected in any way to the Bratva, but the audio I received from Theo made me suspect Vlad might have been playing with us when we reviewed the footage.
"Whatever do you mean?" He asks in an offended voice.
"Bianca Ashby."
"Oh yes, I know that name. Isn't she the wife of the stiff suit?"
"You know exactly what I'm asking."
"No, I don't. Why don't you spell it out for me?"
"Is she involved with you...professionally?"
"Ahh, old friend, even if she were, would I say anything?"
"I know you wouldn't. But give me something, will you?"
"She's no danger for you or that badge you've attached yourself to if that's what you're asking." His tone is no longer playful, and I'm inclined to believe him.
"That's all I needed to know. Thank you."
"You've gone soft, Marcello," Vlad says, laughing.
"Don't call me that." I hiss.
"Did I hurt your tender feelings?"
"Sure, my heart is bleeding." I snort.
"If only that were true... you forget I was there for your first kill Marcello. I even gave you pointers."
"That was a different lifetime ago. I'm Marcel now."
"Are you, though?" He asks, more of a rhetoric question.
"I'm hanging up," I say, about to end the call, but Vlad being Vlad, has to drop the bomb on me.
"How's your brother?"
"None of my business."
"He's ill, did you know?"
"I don't care. And neither should you. Last I checked, he preferred Misha to you."
Vlad gives a dry chuckle.
"And even so, have you never wondered why he still lives?" I don't answer.
"Take care, old friend." He is now the one to end the call, and I'm left staring into empty space.
My brother... I hadn't thought about him for a long time. Too long. I sigh, shaking my head. I have no brother.
Not anymore.
Not in ten long years.
CHAPTER XII
I've been playing the same role for too many years. I know how to control my expressions to appear timid, shy, introverted. And yet, why does it seem so hard to maintain this mask right now? I feel like I'm suffocating. Like Theo's always waiting for me to slip. After my crying performance last night and the minimal interaction with Theo, I started thinking I overdid it. But I kept going.
At the same time, I also want to know what the deal with Marcel is. I've met him often enough over the years, but none of our encounters had denoted that Marcel was familiar with those types of issues. The way Theo made it sound was like Marcel doing the clean-up was a regular thing.
One thing is for sure, though. I can't afford to show any holes in my persona. It’s also why I had to let Vlad know the thing tomorrow was off. I need to act as normal as I can in the near future.
We are now in my room at my father's house. Theo is in front of the mirror, tying his cravat. I'd donned one of my summer mid-thigh dresses, going for a laid-back yet not too casual look.
As soon as we got to the house, we were greeted by my father's assistant who told us to take some time to get ready and that there would be other guests. We'd expected there to be other guests because my father only invites us when he wants to show off a family man's image. It's good for business, or so he always says.
"Do you have any idea who the other invitees are?" Theo asks me, finally breaking the torturous silence.
"No, but don't worry. We do what we always do. Smile, make small talk, and then we leave."
"Indeed," his eyes follow me through the mirror, and I muster the courage to go up to him and touch him. Theo and I have always had a very tactile relationship, and keeping a distance would immediately mean admitting something was wrong.
My hands go up his crisply white shirt to settle on his biceps.
"We can do this." I raise myself on my tiptoes to briefly touch my lips against his. He doesn't move, doesn't even react, a glint of something in his eyes. We stand staring at each other for a long moment before his hand encircles my waist, and he tugs me in for a tight hug.
"We're a team." He whispers, almost without conviction.
"Always." I smile into his chest, hoping those words would always stay true.
"Ok, enough of this. Let's go down and face the crowd."
He offers me his arm, and we go towards the large sitting room on the ground floor.
My father's house is massive. It has over 40 rooms; most of them only used when my father throws one of his extravagant parties. A double spiraling staircase is in the middle of the hallway. As we descend towards the great hall, I spot a few figures shaking my father's hand and starting towards the sitting room.
When we arrive, it seems we are the last ones to do so, and everyone's eyes are suddenly on us.
An elderly gentleman is talking to my father, next to whom I see another man around Theo's age, his hand clinically touching the woman next to him. Another two men, already deep in conversation, are on an opposite couch.
"Here are my daughter and son-in-law." My father stands up and comes to us with a big smile on his face. The other people stand up as well.
Let the acting begin!
My own lips immediately stretch to their full ability, and I see Theo putting on a pleasant smile as well.
"Gentleman," my father begins, clearly about to make the introductions.
"Bianca, Theo, these are Rocco Agosti and his son Enzo Agosti, and the lovely lady next to him is his wife, Allegra." He motions towards them, and I'm almost taken aback by the identity of the guests. Rocco is a portly man with gray hair that has to be about sixty, if not more. His son, though, does not resemble him in the least. He is quite tall, with a muscular built, yet it's his face that's entirely too surprising. If I were a normal woman, I might have swooned. The
symmetry of his features coupled with his coloring are a dangerous combination. He has an olive skin tone that's accentuated by his vividly green eyes and dark hair. Pretty boy... very pretty. Too cute when compared with his wife. She's small and frail-looking, her bones too breakable. Her face is passable, I suppose, but compared to her husband, she is just... forgettable.
"Agosti, Bianca, and Theodore Hastings." My father completes the first round of introductions.
"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. Hastings." Enzo purrs in accented English, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I am already forcing myself to smile, but my cheeks must look unnaturally compressed at his gesture. Theo's arm tightens around me immediately, and he steps in to shake Enzo's hand, deliberately taking his attention from me.
"Italian, right?" My husband asks.
"Born in the States but raised in Sicily," Enzo answers, showing white teeth and a dazzling smile. I narrow my eyes at him, not quite understanding how someone can look like that. I then shift my gaze to his wife, and she seems utterly indifferent to her husband's flirtatious charm. Odd.
"And these two gentlemen," My father continues, "are Matthew Gallagher and his son Quinn Gallagher from Boston." Both father and son are incredibly fair, their looks the opposite of everyone in the room. They are handsome, in an Aryan way, but their stance tells me they are also deadly.
Then realization dawns.
Well, fuck me!
If this isn't a mob meeting...
I haven't had much interaction with the Italian or the Irish mafia, but it seems that my father is quick to rectify that. I'm not dumb. I can read between the lines, with Enzo and his Sicilian upbringing, or the Gallagher men from Boston, who I am sure are packing ammo right as we speak.
Yet my smile does not waver. Theo does not react either, but I'm guessing he doesn't realize what's happening. His only tell that he is a little out of his comfort zone is that he is keeping me glued to his side, the arm around my waist digging into my skin.
I really want to tell him he has nothing to worry about, even though any sane woman would admit Enzo's looks are blinding. So, to mollify him, I lean into his shoulder, letting my cheek rest a little on his arm.
"Come, let us sit. We have much to discuss. Mr. Ashby has been singing you both a lot of praise. I can see why he is such a proud papa." The fat man says this, and I almost gag when he utters proud papa. If he only knew...
We go to sit on the couches, presumably until called to the dining room. I take a seat next to Allegra, and I see Theo being ushered next to the Agostis. The Gallaghers are directly across from us.
After staring intently at my husband, Quinn Gallagher starts the conversation by asking the oddest question.
"You seem remarkably familiar, Mr. Hastings. Have we met before?" Quinn's face shows traces of rough mob life. Two white lines bisect his left eyebrow, and his nose has seen better days, potentially before being broken several times. My gaze goes directly to his knuckles, and my suspicions are confirmed. Fighter. But then I'm startled by a thought, and my head snaps in Theo's direction, zoning in on his knuckles as well. Odd…
"Oh, he was in Boston at Harvard, maybe you moved in the same circles?" I quickly jump to Theo's defense.
Quinn starts laughing.
"Oh, I doubt that.... never mind." I give him one of my Yes, drop it smiles.
"Harvard, huh?" Enzo starts. "Is that where you met your delectable wife?" His question throws me off a little, mainly because the wording is inappropriate.
"We met in this very house, in fact. Her father introduced us."
"Such a pity I didn't know you earlier, Mr. Ashby." Enzo turns towards my father and adds.
Everyone laughs. I fake a laugh too, but looking at his wife, I wonder what type of marriage they have that he so blatantly disregards her. She doesn't seem to mind it, though. I would even go as far as to say that her smile is the most genuine one until now. Odd again.
Theo looks in my direction at his comment, his eyes zoning in on my face.
"What can I say, I'm a lucky man." Theo finally says, and the topic is dropped.
The conversation goes on for a little while before we finally head to lunch, and my father reveals his true intentions for this meeting.
CHAPTER XIII
After the events of last night, I never thought I'd have another shock in the form of my past staring me right into my eyes. Quinn Gallagher was someone I'd known in passing more than a decade ago, and I really hope he won’t continue with his line of questioning. If he does, I'll just have to shrug it off and go with I have one of those faces lines.
Bianca's intervention had saved me a reply, but her manner of conversing with these people is somehow off. She is being extra solicitous to them. Does she know any of them? I was particularly taken aback when Enzo Agosti made some blatantly flirtatious comments towards Bianca, with his own wife standing right next to him.
The whole affair reeks of something more than just a family lunch. I know that Martin dips his fingers in a variety of projects, some of them skirting the line of legality, but the Gallaghers' presence here tells me this isn’t merely a matter of loopholes.
I know of their empire in Boston. Who lives there and doesn't find out, or mingles with their likes, even unknowingly? I’m also aware of their personal brand of illegality, which had been thriving in that area since the NYC mob busts in the 80s and 90s that made it outlawed here. And somehow, because of that, I start to have an inkling as to why I’m needed here.
The Agostis' presence, though? That is a mystery.
Not long after meeting Martin's guests, the butler ushers us all towards the dining room. Again, I can tell Martin is up to something by the simple fact that he made sure the seating arrangement put me next to both Rocco Agosti and Matthew Gallagher, with Bianca next to Enzo Agosti, and Quinn Gallagher. I’m almost tempted to protest, but then I remember she may as well be the deadliest of the room and decide that she can take care of herself. The look she gives me, though, suggests she is not entirely pleased with the arrangement. Enzo's young wife is left to sit next to Martin.
We go through the first two courses making small talk until Martin turns towards me and steers the conversation towards my current career goals.
"It's quite impressive what you've achieved at such a young age, Mr. Hastings." It’s Rocco who comments.
"It hasn't been exactly easy," I reply carefully.
"I understand that there are certain topics you are very passionate about."
"Yes, that is correct." I agree, waiting to see where this is going.
"My husband is very involved with the community," Bianca interjects. "He's of the opinion that public servants should always work in tandem with their communities, not only for them." She gives me a smile that shows her pride in my work.
"That is a very commendable stance," Enzo adds, looking at my wife as if she were the desert that was yet to come. "We, too, deeply believe in such collaborations with our public servants. In fact, over the years, we've developed close relationships that have benefited communities and neighborhoods immensely."
"What is it that you do again?" I ask, and Enzo gives Martin a long look.
"We dabble in everything. But mostly we own a chain of restaurants and hotels downtown. We've been looking to expand, however."
"My son is correct. Ours is a family business, and we have long been involved in hospitality." Rocco says proudly.
"Where are you thinking of expanding?" This time it’s Bianca who asks the question.
"Oh, here and there, but mostly we were looking into Upper Manhattan."
"Gallagher here is also thinking of expanding his business, and New York has proven to be the perfect place, with Agosti's help, of course." Martin inclines his head at Rocco, and Matthew nods.
"I wish you luck, I know how hard it is to procure any type of space in Manhattan, least of all enough space for a hotel or restaurant." I am trying to be friendly and yet distant. There must be a reason why Marti
n had us come here, and I'm willing to bet it has to do with the expansion plans.
"We are in the process of buying out another family-owned business, and Matthew has given us leave to use his resources."
"That's great," I say and then decide to just go for it. "On the off chance of sounding rude, I will be direct. What is it you want from me?"
"Oh," Martin starts laughing, almost nervously. "I told you he was smart."
"As mentioned earlier." Enzo starts, his accent thicker than before. "We too care about the well-being of the community and would like nothing more than to see it thrive. We've seen your track record when it comes to your policies against crime, especially against homelessness and prostitution."
Morally Corrupt: A Dark Romance (Morally Questionable Book 1) Page 9
