White Knight (Dirty Mafia Duet, #2)(29)

Of course, I never let it out myself.

“Oh, shut up. I don’t hate you, Cannon,” Greer says, her gaze locked on mine. “We do miss you, though. Crey especially, even if he won’t tell you himself. You two have to bury the hatchet, and preferably soon and not in each other’s chest.”

She knows us both well.

“It’s good to see you, Greer. You look happy, despite being here.”

Her smile slips a little, but her ability to hide her thoughts when in public has never been as well-honed as her brother’s. “I didn’t want to come. I didn’t want Cav to come either. But he insisted that it was the right thing to do.” She leans in, conspiratorially. “To be honest, I think he just wanted to rub that Academy Award in Dom’s face.”

A chuckle catches in my throat as she turns to Memphis.

Shit. I should have introduced them, but then again having a date—someone I care about by my side—is all new to me.

Before I can rectify my mistake, they’re doing it for me.

“Hi, I’m Greer. It’s really nice to meet any friend of Cannon’s.” With her smiling introduction, she’s fishing for information. Part of me wishes I could tell her the truth about Memphis, but that’s not possible.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you—” Memphis begins, but I want there to be no mistaking what she is to me, so I interject.

“Greer, this is Drew, my girlfriend. Drew, this is Greer. I’d call her my little sister, except there’s no blood shared between us.”

“I think there’s plenty of shared blood in this room without you and I being related. Besides, that would be gross.” Greer shifts her gaze from me back to Memphis. “It’s so nice to meet you. I’m shocked to see someone finally managed to tie down the uncatchable Cannon Freeman. I swore he’d never get serious with someone.”

“Maybe he was just waiting for the right woman, like we all do.” Cavanaugh Westman steps up behind his wife and wraps an arm around her middle before nodding at me in greeting. “Cannon. It’s been a while.” He holds out a hand and I shake it.

“It has. How are things? Congrats on the Academy Award.” I can see the pride in his eyes, but he won’t brag. It’s not his style.

“Thanks. It was unexpected, which makes it that much better.” And that’s all he’ll say about himself. Instead, he places a kiss to his wife’s temple and asks me, “How are you doing? I heard from a friend you’re managing the Upper Ten for dear old Dad.”

Hearing someone say it out loud—in public—is something I may never get used to.

“Which friend is that?”

Cav’s attention cuts from me to Memphis. “Silas Bohannon. We run in similar circles.”

Greer whips around to look up at her husband. “Silas is here? Is Windsor?” Her gaze darts around the full room, scanning. “I seriously hope that those two get their heads out of their asses eventually and just hook up, for God’s sake.”

“Who’s Windsor?” Memphis asks. This has to be a lot for her to take in, but she’s yet to stumble or falter. She’s unshakable.

Greer is more than happy to fill her in on the gossip. “Windsor Reed. She and Cav were costars in the Casablanca remake.”

“Oh, wow. That Windsor.” Memphis exhales the words with underlying shock. Windsor Reed is Hollywood royalty, and with Silas Bohannon being more of a Hollywood renegade, the two don’t seem to mix at all.

“Windsor’s good people. So is Bo,” Cav says before squeezing his wife. “But Greer isn’t going to meddle and try to bring them together. Are you, babe?”

Greer rolls her eyes, and I’m reminded of her rebellious streak. I wouldn’t put it past her to push until she gets what she wants. The woman is scary smart and tenacious, and with a brother like Creighton Karas, she’s a force to be reckoned with.

“Of course I won’t interfere.” In plain sight, she crosses her fingers and slips them behind her. “Unless I see an opening.”

When Memphis laughs, I smile too.

“Wait until you see the gift that Crey and Cav got together to give Dom. It’s epic. He’s going to lose his mind.”

“What is it?” Memphis asks, but someone jostles me from behind, pushing through the crowd like a bull in a china shop.

Spinning to see who’s being a dick, I’m not surprised in the least to see Enzo with a shitty expression on his face.

“Place is packed. Not that I’m surprised with so many Casso bastards jammed in here.”

Cav stiffens as soon as he sees Enzo, and I wonder how many encounters he had with the douchebag while he was still living in the city. Hopefully, not many.

“You might want to lay off the drinks, Enzo. You’re already looking a little red.” My dig hits its mark, and his flushed face turns crimson. I don’t know if it’s the alcoholism or his blood pressure or just being a shitty human being, but he doesn’t look healthy at all.

He attempts to look down his nose at me, but I’m taller and don’t give a shit.

“I’m getting a drink for Dom. Mind getting out of the fucking way?”

His line is bullshit, because Andre’s owner, Andre Canali, brings all Dom’s drinks to him directly. Dom doesn’t eat or drink anything from this place that isn’t served by that man himself, and he hasn’t in over twenty years. It started out as a gesture of trust, because Andre wanted Dom to feel comfortable here. By serving him the food personally, Andre acknowledged that if anything happened to Dom, his own life would be forfeit. Naturally, over the years they became friends, and the habit stuck.