Page 109 of He Should Be Mine
“Isabella is still being slippery. But I think she knows what I’m going to offer, and I’m pretty sure she is keen.”
My co-conspirators nod, accepting my information easily. Now it’s time to play one of my cards. I’m going to feed them information in the hope that it filters out and turns even more people against Riccardo.
“I told the Don that Riccardo is gay, but he didn’t seem to care.”
Nicolo’s eyes widen. Carlo puts his drink down with too much force. Dante’s eyebrows twitch.
“Is it true?” asks Nicolo.
I nod and sip my whisky. Downstairs, on the dance floor, the bass is really thumping now.
Carlo lets out a low whistle. “I’m surprised the old man was so accepting.”
I say nothing. I keep my face utterly blank. I don’t even move.
“But good for him for getting with the modern times,” continues Carlo.
I stare at him, and he flashes me a wolfish grin as he settles back in his chair. “What? My best friend’slittle brother is a femboy. Crazy motherfucker. Far more dangerous than any of you pussies.”
He pulls a cigar out of his pocket and lights it. The yellow flare of the lighter casts shadows over his face, giving him an almost demonic look.
“I like it when men submit to me,” Dante says.
I can’t read his expression at all. Or his body language. His eyes are certainly giving nothing away.
“You’re both gay?” exclaims Nicolo, with an incredulous look on his face.
Both men turn to him, shoulders tight.
“I didn’t say that!” snaps Carlo.
Nicolo pales and holds his hands up in surrender. “Hey, I grew up in London, in a normal family, in a normal neighborhood, in the twenty-first century. I’m not homophobic, like you dinosaurs.”
Carlo grumbles something, but his shoulders relax and he leans back in his chair again, puffing on his cigar. Dante’s shoulders drop too, but the rest of him remains unreadable.
Nicolo gulps down his beer.
“None of you care that Riccardo is gay?” I say, even though I shouldn’t. I should let it lie, but their reactions have stirred something in me and I need to know.
Carlo shrugs. “Why should I care what holes he likes to fuck? It’s a good excuse to rally people to our side and pull him down. But if he wasn’t such an asshole, I wouldn’t sweat it.”
Dante nods. So does Nicolo. I bring my whisky glass up to my lips to hide my surprise. This is unexpected. It is sending a shivering thrill of excitement and hope racing through me.
Maybe I won’t need to keep Molly such a secret. Maybe I can proudly have him on my arm just like he deserves.
He can be my gangster’s moll. He’d excel in that role. He’d charm and entice both my friends and my enemies. The best trophy wife of them all.
I put my glass on the table and gesture for a refill. I’m getting ahead of myself. Overthrow Riccardo. Be named heir. Make Molly safe.
What comes after, is neither here nor there. I haven’t got time to dwell on it now.
The server skips over with a whisky bottle. She’s a young, skinny thing in a glittery leotard, with breasts that seem too large for her frame.
Nicolo is staring at her.
Carlo chuckles. “Amy, give my friend a lap dance.”
She giggles. Plonks the whisky bottle on the table by my glass, and sways over to Nicolo. The poor boy looks like he is going to faint.
