Page 49 of The More I Hate

My father had dealt with these thugs in bad faith one too many times, and now there was no trust. Now I had to talk to them myself to ensure they didn’t put a hit out on the man. I wanted my old friend destroyed, not dead. How was I going to enjoy the look of utter devastation on his face if he was dead?

“Okay, thank you, Henry. I’ll deal with them. Please get started on that report. And just in case they get any ideas, put a security detail on her. I want eyes on her any time she isn’t at home or with me but have them be discreet.”

“Already done, sir.” He turned and went back to his desk a few feet beyond my office door.

I sat back in my chair and flipped through the pages of the report. She apparently had a love of art. That seemed like a good place to start.

“Henry,” I called, and he was back at my door in a moment.

“Yes, sir?”

“Get my father’s associates on the line for me, then call the Met and see if we can arrange a romantic private lunch for me and my fiancée in one of the wings. Call Amelia and make sure she is there at the appropriate time, then clear the rest of my day.”

“Right away, sir.”

“Oh, and Henry?” I said, stopping him from leaving. “Does that sound like something she would like? At this point, I think you know her better than I do.”

“It checks all the boxes, sir. It’s romantic, takes time and effort, and it’s personalized to her tastes. The Met has a special exhibit on a few Impressionists. It opens in a few weeks, but I believe the paintings arrived last week. I’ll try to arrange something there.”

“Thank you.” I sat back, wondering if this was going to be enough.

In the car last night, I had been too rough with a girl so inexperienced. I couldn’t even imagine what she thought of me. She probably saw me the same way I saw certain associates of my father.

Barbaric, uncivilized, and violently immoral.

After last night, she might have a point.

It was time I showed my fiancée a different side of me.

“Sir, these gentlemen decided to make a face-to-face visit,” Henry said, standing at my door again. “I’m afraid the idea of calling to schedule something slipped their minds. Should I show them in?”

“Yes, thank you.” I rolled my eyes. Of course, my father’s associates came all the way here to meet face to face. They were under the illusion that a bunch of unwashed gangsters from the “old country” was going to intimidate me.

They were sorely mistaken.

“Gentlemen, please have a seat.” I didn’t stand.

Which was a sign of disrespect, but if the three men in ill-fitting cheap suits took offense, they didn’t show it. The O’Leary clan was an Irish mob from Belfast, small but well-known and, thanks in no small part to my father, well-funded and connected.

“Mr. Manwarring, that meeting has been set for 12:30. You’ll need to leave in the next five minutes to arrive on time,” Henry said, as if he was reminding me of an important business meeting and not lunch with my future wife. He really earned every cent I paid him.

“I’m sorry you came all the way here when I don’t have the time for a proper sit-down, but how can I help you?”

“How do we know Dubois won’t be a problem no more?” the middle one said.

He was a fat man with ruddy, pockmarked skin, crooked yellow teeth, and stark white hair. I didn’t remember his name. I made a point to never remember their names. I didn’t even like them in my office. My father wanted to bring them in. He should be the one dealing with him.

“Because the only power he had was going to come from marrying the district attorney’s sister.” I spoke as if I was explaining this to a small child because that was about the intelligence level I was dealing with. “She’s close with her brother, and her husband would have the ear of the DA. Dubois will no longer be in a position where the DA will listen to him. The DA will listen to his sister’s husband. That is going to be me.”

“Why would the DA listen to you, just because you are shaggin’ his baby sister?” one of the others said. His thick accent made me stop and take a moment to mentally decode his words.

“Because he wants to keep his sister happy. His family also made their fortune in tobacco. What’s a better merger than whisky and tobacco?” I stood and grabbed my suit jacket from the hook, hoping the men took the hint.

They didn’t; they remained seated.

“That still doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he still listen to Dubois? It’s not like he can’t make an appointment.”

“No, he can’t. He has tried several times over the years. DA Astrid won’t see them. He has refused every appointment, and marrying Ms. Astrid was his way in. My father and I are already working on the contracts for a few joint ventures that will link our fortune with the Astrid fortune. Which will incentivize Mr. Astrid to help with our endeavors.”

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