Page 33 of Reckless Sinner

The phone rang only twice, and then my father’s slightly accented, frozen knife voice was on the other end. “Dante?”

I released my breath slowly. I didn’t want him to know that I was nervous. “Hello, Father.”

“So nice of you to call.” I could hear rustling in the background—my father was never far from his paperwork. “I suppose you’re here to discuss poor Marco.”

There was an ever-so-slight sardonic tone topoor Marcoand I wasn’t sure if it was because it was linked to some scheme, or because my father couldn’t believe his son was bothering to cry over a dead stripper. Dear old Dad and Marco had never really seen eye-to-eye when it came to Marco’s taste in women. Dad being both old-fashioned and a snob.

“I heard about that,” I said, resigning myself to a little bit of small talk. “Vincent told me in brief. Is Marco all right?”

“He’s going to the Caribbean to recover. We thought a change of scenery would do him good.”

It didn’t take a genius to read between the lines there.We need him to go do his drinking and moping somewhere it won’t cause a scandal.I had always felt bad for Marco. Just like me, he never seemed able to do anything right in the eyes of our father.

“I hope it will,” I replied. “Listen, I was hoping that I could ask what you knew about Alan Weston.”

The pause on the other end of the phone was heavier than an elephant. “You’re coming to ask me for information?” Dad sounded disbelieving, amused, and annoyed all at once. “And isn’t that the hardass you work for?”

As if Antonio Russo didn’t know the identity of the lawyer who’d been snapping at his heels for years.

“Yes, I work for him. Which you approved, by the way.”Keep your enemies closer and all that.

“And you haven’t found information on him—you ask it of me.” Dad clucked his tongue. “Dante, Dante, have I taught you nothing of how to get such…”

“This isn’t the kind of thing I can find out easily,” I interrupted him. “It’s not work related.”

“Every man has their vices, I’m sure if you find a way to pull his financials…”

“This is a family matter. About…” Jesus Christ, I was gonna just have to say it, wasn’t I? “I’m seeing his daughter. And—before you lecture me—I know, yes, I know, it’s a bad idea ten different ways.”

“I would say it was a good idea if you had any intention of dating her in order to get dirt on Weston but you aren’t, are you?” Dad tssked again. “What have I done to raise such men? Good strong heads on your shoulders, all of you, until it comes to women and then you’re all getting them turned this way and that.”

“I thought you liked Vincent’s wife?”

“She has proven herself to possess… quite a lot more spine and smarts than I suspected. But that does not erase your brother’s stupid political choice.”

“Is that why he’s been scheming like a spider all these last few months? Huh? Trying to get power in other ways to make up for not marrying a Petrov or a good Italian girl like you wanted?”

“Says the little lawyer’s stooge,” Dad snapped. “I’d be careful how you talk about your brother. At least Vincent has been good to me. Always a good and loyal son. Not like you trying to rush away at every opportunity—”

“You have two other sons, you can’t afford foroneof us to be on the straight and narrow? Isn’t Vincent enough for you? And Marco, you know he’d take a knife for the family business—”

“Was I a bad father? Was that it? Is that why you want to punish me with this constant insolence? You’d think I took a belt to you and put a lock on the fridge for all the dramatics you give me—”

“—if Mother were still alive she would want me to go my own way, she’d want me to behappy—”

“Don’t,” my father snapped, his voice like a whip, “ever invoke her name in service to your stupid rebellious little ideas, Dante. If you think to use my wife against me, I suggest you think again.”

Silence fell. It was far from the worst fight we’d ever had. I was pretty sure that dubious honor went to the blowout we had after my high school graduation when Vincent and Marco had to literally wrench us apart and we didn’t speak for a month. But it was still a fight I couldn’t afford to continue right now.

I took a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t want to argue.”

“Neither do I.”

Honestly, everyone thought it was going be a heart attack from too much alfredo sauce that was going to kill my father, but it might just be me losing my patience and strangling the guy. “I need to find out if Alan Weston is…” I winced. I couldn’t saya bad father, that was way too loaded. “If he’s controlling his daughter.”

“In what way?” I could hear Dad’s interest being piqued and I grimaced again. Dad being interested in something meant he was scheming, which rarely worked out well for me.

“She’s a very smart woman. She’s observant and can read people well. She’s got… a real spark in her. But she says and does things—I think she’s been manipulated her whole life. Gaslit, even. She talks about how she has to behave certain ways, it’s Stepford, and it’s fucking creepy.”

---