Page 128 of Where Dark Hearts Devour
I grind my teeth softly. “You want to have this talk now?”
We’re getting married—she’s going to find out the details of our operation before long. She’s also not a typical Mafia wife-to-be, and I’m not a typical don. I want her to know everything about me, and that includes the work of our family. I don’t expect her to get involved, but I don’t want to keep secrets from her either.
“Well, there’s the laundromat and the manufacturing business—they’re the biggest. We have some small waste-disposal businesses, click farms, and a growing data-mining enterprise.”
She nods slowly. “And the unions?”
“Yeah, those too.”
“Drugs?”
“Cocaine,” I affirm.
“Firearms?”
“Fewer now, but yes.”
I can see a moral war waging behind her eyes. I can’t bear to watch her slip away when faced with the reality of who I am now, but neither can I lie.
“Will you make it worth it?”
At first I don’t understand her, but when she looks at me with hope in her eyes, I know what this is. She knows I can’t change what a don does, but she’s asking if a marriage to me will make up for the compromise—thesacrifice—she’s making in going along with something she’s feared for so long.
“I’ll make it worth your while ten times over.”
I mean every word.
“We can start by converting the ground floor.”
She blinks. “To what?”
“A studio,” I reply. “The light through the French doors is the best in the entire property. It’s spacious. We don’t have a need for a breakfast room, dining room, bar, utility, and kitchen. We can open up the whole side of the house. It can be yours to use however you wish.”
“Are you serious?” Her eyes dart about as she formulates a plan in her head. “What about my career?”
I fold my arms and frown in concentration. “What career?”
“Well, now I’ve finished up the year, I can either go on to further study, or I could look for work in local art galleries, or I could quit altogether.”
“What do you want to do?”
“I’d like to work in a gallery.”
“So do it.” I stand up and button my jacket.
“Really?”
“Yeah, of course.”
She narrows her eyes. “This is too good to be true.”
I grin.
“No, I mean it. There has to be a catch. You’re the Di Santo don—my marriage to you will put a price on my head again, right?”
I inhale a sobering breath. “Right.”
“Will I be safe working in a regular job?”
