Page 56 of Dance of Deception

I exhale slowly.

Vito has always been like this—loud, cocky, refusing to let anything get to him. Tonight, I can’t decide if it’s comforting, charming, or fucking infuriating.

“You shouldn’t be drinking,” I mutter.

“Andyoushouldn’t be such a pain in my ass,” he fires back, peering at me over the rim of his glass. “You know, son, Ididjust have a heart attack.”

I roll my eyes.

Dad smacks his lips, savoring the whiskey extra hard to piss me off.

I exhale slowly, rolling my neck. Vito watches me for a long moment, then his expression softens a little.

“Let me tell you something, kid,” he says, shifting slightly in his chair. “I’ve spent my whole life watching people get eaten alive in this world. But me?” He smirks, tapping his chest. “I made this world mine. It’s gonna take more than a little myocardial whatever-it-is to knock me down.”

He leans back, watching me carefully.

“You think this rattled me,” he mutters. “It didn’t. Not really.”

“No?” I challenge, crossing my arms.

He takes another sip before setting his glass aside. “No. You know what Iwasthinking about when I was in that hospital?”

I arch a brow.

“The girls at Lickety Splits,” he says dreamily.

I bark out a laugh. “Jesus Christ. Near-death experience, and you’re thinking about titties?”

“Kid, iftittiescan’t pull you out of it when you’re staring down death, you’re fucked. Remember that,” he grins, lifting his glass again in salute.

I chuckle and shake my head, bringing mine to my lips.

Vito grins, stretching his arms behind his head. “Seriously, though. I was thinking about the club.”

Lickety Splits was a strip club Pop managed when we were all kids, when our great-uncle Vincenzo was still alive and don of the Barone family. Even as he grew into bigger things, Dad kept that office above the club.

Hell, he’sstillgot it.

The first two floors aren’t mirrored VIP champagne rooms and stripper poles anymore. There’s a Michelin two-star French restaurant on the first floor, and a tech startup above it. But Vito’s office on the third floor still looksexactlythe same.

I spentwaytoo much of my childhood running around backstage, listening to the dancers gossip while they did their makeup. But what I remember most isn’t the excitement of maybe getting a peek of something I wasn’t supposed to. It was how protective of them Pop always was.

“You remember what I used to tell you and your brothers?” he asks, watching me carefully.

I nod, smirking, wanting to get it just right.

“Just because a woman takes her clothes off for money doesn’t mean she deserves any less respect than the asshole handing her the cash.”

Vito points at me, nodding. “Damn right. Those girls worked harder than half the men in this city. They sure as hell didn’t need some punk thinking they could be bought.”

His eyes sharpen slightly. “Anyway, that’s what I was thinking about. That, and you.”

I smile, watching him carefully.

“What about me?”

Vito sighs, rolling his shoulders. “You’re stepping into something big, Carmy.”

---