XOXO (The Calvettis of New York 3)

I half-hug him quickly before I drop into the chair across from him.

“Dominick.” My name leaves his lips with an air of disgust wrapped around it.

I recognize it. He’s embarrassed. Shame taints his movements and the tone of his voice. No one who runs a multi-million dollar business wants to find themselves in his shoes even if they cost several thousand dollars.

“Brooks.” I’d offer more, but we both know why he texted me this morning to ask me to meet him here for lunch.

Brooks Middlestat, sole heir to the Middlestat fortune, husband, father, and grandfather, has brought me here so he can plead, try to persuade, and eventually, threaten me to release part of his fortune so he can gamble it away.

He drops his head. “I need a favor.”

Leaning back in my chair, I gesture to the approaching server to stop. She tosses me a look of confusion, so I point a finger sending her in the direction of another table.

“No,” I answer succinctly.

He rakes a hand through his short gray hair. “I didn’t get a chance to explain.”

“You didn’t need to.” I lower my voice. “You got your allowance at the beginning of the month, Brooks.”

His blue eyes hone in on me. I see desperation looking back at me. “I need more.”

There’s no reason to humiliate him by asking what he needs the money for. We both know the answer to that question. It’s for a table game. Today it might be poker. Last month it was blackjack.

It’s a dance we do regularly. Brooks invited me here because he knows I’ll take the lead. He’s paying me to. Part of the contract we both signed included an agreement that I’d supply him with a set allowance on the first of each month.

It’s generous. It affords him enough to pay his bills and lavish an expensive gift on his wife on her birthday and their anniversary.

If she’s not wearing a new set of earrings or a bracelet in the days after a special occasion, I notice.

“If you don’t give me the money, I’ll get it from someone else.”

A threat this early in the conversation is concerning. It’s not critical. We’re not there yet, but it’s time I bring out the game changer.

“Think about your grandson.” I lean my forearms on the table. “How old is he now? Three months or is it four?”

His hand jumps to scrub the back of his neck. “Don’t bring him into this, Dominick.”

I tap my fist on the table to draw his gaze to mine. “You know I have to. You want that kid to be proud of you, Brooks.”

I’m using his words against him because it’s a weapon that has yet to let me down.

“How will he ever know if I hit up the casino today?”

“You’ll know.”

Guilt is a powerful tool when used wisely.

I agreed to keep Brooks on track in exchange for two percentage points more in my fee. It seems inconsequential, but with a fortune as vast as the Middlestat estate, it’s substantial.

“I want to void the contract,” he lies. “Let’s go to your office and rip it up.”

Desperation can drive a man mad.

Since the option of ripping up our contract is not based in reality, I offer an alternative. “Let’s go to a meeting. There’s one in Tribeca in an hour and a half. We’ll eat something for lunch here and then head over there.”

His gaze drops to the expensive watch on his wrist. The only reason it’s still there and not in a pawnshop in Midtown is that it’s an inheritance piece from his grandfather.

“You’ll stick around while I’m in the meeting?”

I always do. I keep the schedule for every Gamblers Anonymous meeting in Manhattan in the calendar on my phone. When I was in Italy, my cousin, Nash Jones, stepped up to help out because his addiction brought him face-to-face with Brooks in a meeting two years ago.

I nod my head. “I’ll be there.”

Some of the weight that has been bearing down on his shoulders melts away. “Food would be good. The meeting will help. Thanks, Dominick.”

I accept his gratitude with a nod of my chin. Brooks trusted me to handle his fortune. He needs me to keep him on course, so he doesn’t blow through it at breakneck speed. I’ve come to accept that means that I’m at his beck and call.

I learned a long time ago that if I wanted wealth, it came at a price.

I’m more than willing to pay it.

Chapter 7

Arietta

I pretend to type out a document as I steal glances at Mr. Calvetti. He’s standing ten feet from me, having a hushed conversation with one of his clients. Mr. Morano arrived just after Dominick got back from his hours long “lunch meeting.”

Those unexplained last minute meetings pop up every few weeks.

Mr. Calvetti disappears for hours at a time before he returns looking exhausted.