“Then why not go to the Clemenza Loyalists?”
“There are none,” he says flatly. “The Morellis have seen to that.”
So hedoesn’tknow about that pathetic little movement that creeps around in the shadows. If they’d gotten to him first, I wouldn’t have him here with me now. Hell, whoever texted me tonight about the Obelisk might just as easily have texted them. But they didn’t.
I need to be careful about that. Figure out why it benefited my anonymous friend to havemeclean up this particular mess. I should’ve shown more restraint at the Obelisk, seen the trap laid out for me—because itisa trap, I’m sure of that.
But I lost my self-control when I saw the object of my obsession dangled there in front of me, and that fucking Russian bidding on him as though he had any rights to the Clemenzas at all.
“What about friends?” I go on. “You must have some apart from Jesse Foster?”
He smiles bitterly. “Funny thing about my so-called friends. They weren’t. Not when it counted.”
“Then why not walk the streets and sell your ass the old-fashioned way?” I already know the answer to that, but it amuses me to watch his eyes flash.
“I was being hunted,” he snaps. “You think I’d survive half a night out there in the open? And besides…” He trails off.
The silence stretches.
“You’re a virgin,” I finish for him. He doesn’t reply. I lift myself out of the chair and sit on the bed near him. He doesn’t shrink away. Doesn’t cower when I reach out to him.
Maybe he’s not so smart after all.
“Good news,” I say, letting my fingers trace the line of his collar, noting his shiver when I brush over his hand. “You got the right buyer. No one will hurt you while you’re here.” I smile. “Except for me, of course.”
“You promise?”
The question catches me off guard. He’s supposed to fear me, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he asks it, so that for a disorienting second I don’t see a Clemenza.
I see a twenty-one-year-old kid who’s completely alone in the world, chained to a bed, asking the man who bought him if he’ll be safe.
“I promise.” It comes out too soft, so I add, “And unlike you Clemenzas, I keep my word.” I stand, ready to let him sleep. “Get some rest,” I tell him, heading for the elevator. “You’re going to need your strength.”
“For what?”
I enter the elevator, turning back to revel once more in the sight of him—golden-skinned and chained in steel andmine. “For everything I’m going to do to you this year.”
The elevator doors close on his sharp intake of breath, and I smile as I rise up again to the land of the living, leaving him there with his memories of the dead.
Because there’s another kid I need to keep in mind. A boy of thirteen, also left alone in the world, who deserves to know that justice was meted out in the end.
My rooms are everything the dungeon below isn’t: spacious, high-ceilinged, with walls of windows overlooking the East River to let in warm sunshine during the daytime and the lights of both Queens and Brooklyn at night. But there’s only one view I’m interested in right now.
It’s late, and I’m already drunk on power and half a flask of bourbon, but I pour myself another drink anyway and head to the viewing room that comes off my bedroom. I settle into the chair in front of the wall-mounted monitors. Multiple camera angles give me a complete view of the Clemenza and his surroundings. I can see the shower area, the mock-up of his dead grandfather’s house, and my personal favorite: a close-up of the bed, where I can read every expression on his face.
Except right now there’s nothing to read. He’s curled on his side, chain pooled beside him, and sleep has done what I couldn’t—stripped all his armor off. He looks younger with his guard down.
Innocent.
But he’snotinnocent, I remind myself.
He’s a Clemenza, and that alone is enough to justify what I’m doing. If I can’t kill the man who took my father from me, I’ll do the next best thing and break his son.
And he lookssobreakable lying there. My hands clench hard until I take a breath and re-center myself. Control. Control is everything.
But fuck if that arrogant, clever, lying little shit doesn’t make me want to lose it.
In the early hours, after I’ve given up on sleep, I go up for breakfast to the sunroom, where I find Rosa setting a second place at my breakfast table like she’s expecting company.