Never Have an Outlaw's Baby (Deadly Pistols MC #3)(93)
The expensive suit covered up the belly he'd been developing in his fifties nicely. His well polished shoes completed the ensemble, always immaculate.
“Sabrina!” His cold hands folded around me, and I returned the hug, bracing as he kissed both cheeks. “It's been too long, my niece.”
“Far too long,” I agreed, letting my drunken tongue sound more enthusiastic than I really was.
“Come sit. There's something we need to discuss. You know it's not like me to drop in personally without notice, but tonight, I couldn't resist.”
My knees felt like rocks as I followed him to the empty chairs. The whole bar staff cleared out. They knew to keep their distance when the real owner showed up.
I sank down on a bench a few feet across from him, watching as he sat between his men. He fished out a pomegranate and a small silver knife. He took his time, slicing away the top, opening it up, using the blade to help dig out a few seeds, which he popped into his mouth and chewed before he looked at me.
“You're a good girl, Brina. My favorite niece. When will you go off and find a good man to marry? I'm surprised you're still here and not traveling abroad. You ought to be putting your heels far and wide while you're young enough to enjoy it.”
I smiled – all I could do to settle the unease in my legs. Damn, maybe I should've skipped the last two drinks after all.
“Can't do that until I've got some stuff published, Uncle Gioulio. I'm –“
He cut me off, holding up a finger, chewing a few more seeds. “You're busy sticking your pretty head in places it doesn't belong.”
“You're talking about Anton Ivankov?”
My Uncle bowed up when I said the name. He looked at the bulldog on his right and handed the pomegranate to him, then leaned forward in his seat, folding his hands. The knife rested on the arm rest next to him.
“You know I am. Why didn't you clear this with me first, Brina?”
Because there's no way in hell you'd let me go through with it, I thought.
“He's locked up,” I said quietly. “I didn't think you'd have a problem.”
Gioulio's face darkened. He shook his head, like I'd just smashed one of the regal portraits of our ancestors at his city estate.
“The problem isn't the Russian behind bars. He's got two brothers walking free. They're all very much alive and active, I'm sorry to say. Tell me, Brina, what do you think would happen if he found out who you are? Hm?”
I swallowed. He had me. Nothing good.
“That's right,” my uncle whispered, standing up. “I get it. You're young. Hungry to make a name for yourself. Maybe do something that'll get this family some positive buzz in the press, outside the trendy reviews section, I mean.”
Our clubs always got glowing reviews. I wasn't sure if he bribed them, or if the quality was really just better than everybody else's. It almost made up for the odd story that slipped out about our mafia doings.
He crossed the room and kneeled. He grabbed one hand with both of his, held it. I couldn't suppress the shudder. He was so damned cold, his fingers like stubby icicles.
“You got your interview, my niece. Two of them, and that's plenty. No more followup. Visiting him twice was dangerous and stupid,” he said coldly, pinching my fingers in his. “This will be a one off, an exclusive, whatever the f*ck you call it in your business. And if you ever decide to have talks with an Ivankov associate again, you'll come to me first. I'm not going to treat you like a kid, Brina. You're a mature, beautiful woman now. But I'm not going to be the idiot responsible for something bad happening to you while you're young and stupid. I promised Gio I wouldn't let that shit happen, and I'm sticking to it.”
I turned my face away. Hearing him talk about my father hit me harder than it should in this state. The alcohol numbed everything else, but not this, apparently.
“Uncle, don't.” I extracted my hand from his, warming it in my other palm.
“I won't, Brina. I don't need to. I know you understand, don't you?”
It took me a good ten seconds to meet his eyes. Finally, I nodded.
The glacial frown on his face thawed, and broke into a smile. His small, too perfect white teeth glistened in the dim light.
“Magnifico! There's my good girl.” He reached around me, pulled me out of my seat, and held me tight. “Stay away from the Silver Pear for awhile. Don't let an Ivankov poison your good mind, Brina. Drink some water. Get some sleep. I'll have Silvano take you home. He's waiting for you outside.”
His grip was cold, but it was reassuring after the day I'd had. What could I say?
I wasn't making promises I had no intention of keeping. I hated being looked after like a kid, but I couldn't deny his intentions were good. Uncle Gioulio was more experienced, a man who'd spent his whole life precariously perched between two worlds, criminal and civil.
“Thanks, Uncle.” I gave him one more squeeze and then headed out to the sleek black sedan with the chauffeur out front.
When I looked through the Silver Pear's glass just before the car pulled away, he was still standing there, thumbing his knife's handle. The big flat blade tapped on his thigh the same way an angry cat thumps its tail.
I took my vitamin and guzzled several big glasses of water before I collapsed in a long, dreamless sleep. Richard's call woke me the next day way too early.