We did the customary kisses and hugs charade, “Salute!” glasses of Bellini, then they introduced us to their circle of friends.
I noticed three things immediately and simultaneously:
Arthur Rossi had invited a very leggy, very blonde, very demoted, and therefore very vindictive reporter who was intimately acquainted with my cock—Kristen Rhys.
He also invited some of the most fishy and ill-reputable people in the country, including ex-cons, gang leaders, and the likes of which I normally stayed far away from. He hoped this would contaminate my reputation—which, I had no doubt it would, since Kristen was there to take notes.
Without even really needing to look, I instantly found Angelo standing there, nursing a glass of wine, making lazy conversation with other guests.
This wasn’t an attempt to appease me and show that the Rossi’s were on board with our upcoming nuptials. This was a setup.
“We have quite the audience tonight; think you can handle our flavor of guests?” Arthur swirled his drink, shooting me a menacing smile. We hadn’t spoken since I RSVPed his invitation, after which I hadn’t filled in the authorities about what really happened. More leverage for me—one more secret I could use against him. Of course, that meant this place was swarming with security, thanks to my future father-in-law.
Good thing we only had a few more weeks of pretending. Francesca and I would soon be married, and then my plan would be executed. I was going to throw him in jail and make sure he rotted there while I fucked his daughter and left his wife to accept the Keaton couple’s very charitable hospitality. I was not generous enough to pay for the grand mansion in Little Italy, though. Francesca’s mother was welcome to move to one of the multiple properties I owned across Chicago.
The ultimatum was going to be clear—if the mother and daughter wanted my protection, and my money, and my mercy, they were to turn their back on Arthur—and I’d found the poetic justice almost perfect. After all, there was only one thing worse than losing a close, loved relative to an unexpected death—losing their love and affection while they were still alive.
“I can handle anything you throw at me, Arthur. Including, but not limited to, your spawn, who is, in fact, handled quite nicely behind closed doors.” I yawned, ignoring the look of surprise and hurt Francesca flashed me.
It was not in my nature to kiss and tell, but in that case, there really was nothing to tell. We did nothing but heavy petting. It wasn’t my intention to humiliate Nemesis, but it was necessary in order to humiliate her father. And choosing between her anguish and his pride, I’d run over my future wife to get a kick out of Arthur any day.
Rossi’s nostrils flared, his eyes zooming in on me like two barrels of a gun.
He shook it off quickly, turning his head to his daughter.
“Angelo Bandini and his family are here. Shame it didn’t work out with him and Emily after all,” Arthur tsked, studying Francesca’s expression through the rim of his glass, which was tilted up again—no surprises there. Nemesis was still staring at me, bewildered. It took everything for her to drag her eyes to her father and address him. If I were half-decent, I’d apologize. As it happened, I was not only a bastard but also keen on her forming this opinion of me prior to us having sex. It would help me set boundaries for what we were and weren’t.
“Oh?” She smiled politely as though they were complete strangers. Either my future wife was a very good actress, or she really was over her silly fixation with the Italian stud. “I’m sorry to hear.” She moved her gaze back to me, demanding an explanation.
Your father is a cunt. Good enough for you?
“Don’t say that to him, you fool. Say that to him.” Arthur shoved Francesca in the other direction toward Bandini. I was about to escort my betrothed to her fuck buddy when Arthur placed a firm hand on my shoulder. His smile was full of teeth and menace, and he reeked of alcohol. His eyes were red and small but laser-focused on me.
“Senator Keaton, I would love to introduce you to my friend, Charles Burton.”
As in the same congressman who had just resigned to avoid an ethics investigation after groping his employees. Might as well stick my cock in the nearest squirrel’s ass. It would make less of an embarrassing headline and wouldn’t put my morals in question.
“I’m sure you would, but I have something to attend to,” I gritted out, taking a side step, my shoulder brushing his.
“Nonsense.” He clasped my arm, pulling me back. The only reason I relented was because I didn’t want to cause a scene in front of Kristen and give her something else to write about tomorrow morning. “Didn’t you donate to his campaign?”