Chapter 17: Hidden Heir: Chapter 17

Unfortunately, due to my father’s demands, Brooke has to take a back seat as my priority. The Italians took my absence from the meeting a few weeks ago as a personal insult, and it’s my job to smooth things over now. Luckily, Brooke needs time to think over my proposal and to deal with the complex grief she’s dealing with, so I leave Rik to keep a watchful eye on her, requesting hourly updates as I drive toward the warehouse where the Italians have set up another meeting.

Brooke’s situation is becoming more complex by the minute so my stance must shift. She’s a distraction but she’s a warm distraction that I want to sink into time and again. I tell myself I can balance her and my work with ease.

Only now, more details about her story are unraveling. She still refuses to give me anything more on the monster she owes money to and I suspect it’s because she’s protecting Ant. As soon as she mentioned him I knew he was to blame. But she defends him fiercely which my father would find admirable if he spent more than five seconds with her.

I push her from my thoughts as my driver pulls up to the warehouse. Inside, Galeazzo Provenza, the Italian Don himself, waits for me, and I’ll have to pull out all the charm to make sure this deal doesn’t go south. My father will have my head otherwise.

As I enter, I spot Galeazzo standing near some wooden crates, his hands clasped in front of him, two large armed men at his side. Others stand nearby, still as statues. I slowly stride toward Galeazzo, flanked by several of my own guards, holding out my hands in peace as I do so.

“Well, well, well. You actually made it this time.”

“I am a man of my word.”

“Only when it suits, it seems.”

“You have my deepest, sincerest apologies for my lack of appearance at our previously scheduled meeting. There was an urgent matter that demanded my attention.” It’s difficult to ensure I sound sincere but I have always been excellent at putting on a show. “Family comes first, as you are well aware.”

Galeazzo’s bushy eyebrows raise slightly. “Indeed. Your unwavering loyalty to your father is often spoken about in awe,” he says. “Some would even argue he is still in charge.”

“He is my most trusted advisor,” I reply, sidestepping the thinly veiled insult. “I’m sure you understand the importance of the instinct and wisdom that comes with age.”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Indeed I do. So, is this the kind of tardiness I should expect when it comes to payment for my goods?”

I eye the crate behind him. My father is insistent that Italian weapons are the way to go, and frankly, the money we will make flipping them should allow this entire deal to pay for itself. But the Italians are a tough nut to crack, which is why such a deal didn’t exist during my father’s reign. Their opinions on how we make our money are ones of disgust, so my plan has been to pay them enough so that they no longer care where it comes from.

“If you are concerned about late payments I have a new proposition for you,” I say, causing every guard around him to take one step forward.

“A new proposition?” Galeazzo chuckles again. “And what is that?”

“We’ll pay a year in advance, as an apology for my lateness, and to soothe any concerns you may have about the validity of our ability to pay you.”

Galeazzo can barely hide the surprise in his eyes. Not only is it a good deal but flashing that much cash highlights just how much our family is worth. Even if the deal were to turn sour, the money we would lose wouldn’t dent our billions. Only our pride.

“A grand gesture,” Galeazzo says after a moment. “But I, too, have a new proposition.”

All of the guards, mine included, adjust their stance.

“I’m listening.”

The cost of each weapon you purchase from us has now quadrupled. But we will offer a discount if you purchase a full crate.” He pats the crate behind him. “It’s good to buy bulk.”

My eyes narrow briefly. This is a test. He doesn’t believe I have the money to back up my offer, so he’s creating one himself. We will earn an obscene amount of money, with each weapon selling for over eight million, but it’s not my family that has to worry about the laundering side of things.

“Alright.” I stride forward and hold out my hand, his guards immediately stepping in front of him. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

“It’s alright, gentleman,” Galeazzo addresses his guards. To me, he adds, “There will also be a trial period. Six months with no late payments and no issues.”

My hand doesn’t move and neither does my gaze, still fixed directly on his eyes. “Like I said, you have a deal.”

Galeazzo grasps my hand in his meaty fist and shakes. “Excellent.”

As I leave the meeting and that extortionate deal behind, Selina lights up my phone with a call. I ignore it as I check the updates from Rik. He informs me that Brooke has been resting and has eaten. All in all, she’s better than she was a few days ago when that picture was sent.

I answer Selina.

“How did it go?” she asks as I walk toward my car.

“Father won’t be happy,” I reply. “But the deal is secure. Honestly, I think I could take over their entire shipment if I gave them enough money.”

“I’m not surprised,” she says. “Galeazzo has always been a greedy fuck. He exists for dollar signs in his eyes.”

“Isn’t that the truth.”

“I have an update for you on the Irish.”

“Hit me.”

Selina fills me in as I slide into the car and order the diver to take me home. “The Murphys are on the move. You remember the rumblings about a misplaced shipment within the smaller families, right? Well, it turns out they have been doing everything they can to keep it quiet. But it hasn’t worked, and the Murphys sent some people into the city to find out exactly what’s going on.”

“Shit. The Murphys haven’t moved in decades.” The Murphys were the oldest Irish clan still in existence, a quiet power that held the respect of hundreds of families regardless of affiliation. For them to make a move, something big was happening.

“Well.” Selina almost sounds too excited as she speaks. “I spoke to my informant. It turns out the Conti family—you remember them from a few years ago—greasy, tried to make some grand gesture with those motorcycles that couldn’t make it ten miles?”

“Oh fuck yeah, I remember.”

“Apparently, they’ve gone and lost a shit load of drugs. And the chaos they’ve been causing trying to get it all back has kicked up such a shit bucket with the Italians that the Murphys are in town to make peace.”

“No shit. How much are we talking?”

“Not sure exactly, but there is one number being tossed around.”

Seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

A small sum in my line of work but to others, it’s a life-changing amount. It’s no coincidence that the amount the Irish have misplaced and the amount Brooke asked me for are the same. There’s a connection there, I’m sure of it. But nothing about Brooke screams that she’s part of the Irish Mafia. If she was, she would know there is no safe haven for her.

Yet she came here.

To me.

The truth is there, buried beneath her lies, and I have to find a way to extract it. I need to know everything so I can make the best choice for all of us.

I intend to call her into my office as soon as I get home, but when I enter, rubbing my eyes, she’s already there.

“Brooke?”

“Leon.” She rises from the leather couch and immediately twists her hands together. “I hope it’s okay that I’m in here. I didn’t know when you would be back and I need to talk to you.”

“You could have asked Rik to call me.”

“I know.” She flashes an uncertain smile. “But I knew you were busy and didn’t want to disturb you.”

Shrugging off my suit jacket, I drape it over the closest chair and head to the wet bar. “What did you want to talk about?”

Brooke swallows hard. I’m not going to disclose what I know about the Irish yet. Something tells me that if I approach her in a way that makes her feel attacked, she’ll clam up and the truth will be lost forever. I have no problem keeping the Irish away but context is key.

“I thought about your offer,” she says quietly.

Pouring a Vodka, I turn back to her and move to lean against the edge of my desk. She’s lost a little of her spark which I can’t blame her given the nature of Hannah’s death. If it was the Irish that did that, things will make more sense.

“And?” I sip slowly, watching her intently. “What is your answer?”

“My answer is yes,” she replies. “But I have some terms.”

I take another drink. “What are your terms?”

“I want Tiffany to be safe. Not just now when she’s little, but when she gets older, too. I want her protected for her entire life. And I want her to be free to make her own choices and to be able to do her own thing.”

“You think I would stop her?”

Brooke’s eyes narrow. “I want to ensure that no one can. Ever. She deserves the freedom to live her life.”

“Am I not offering you freedom?”

Brooke’s mouth twists. “I’m not against staying here with you, trust me. I just want to ensure my daughter has everything she needs in case something happens in the future.”

“Like what?” I prompt with another sip, hoping she’ll me the truth.

“You like me now,” Brooke says, “But who knows how you will feel in a year? Five years? Ten?”

A fair assessment. “And your brother?”

Her eyes narrow again and a flicker of distaste moves across her face. “He’s his own person but I’m hoping our deal will mean you will keep him safe as well.”

I nod. “I will.”

“Thank you. I would like all of this in writing.”

Something about how earnestly she says that makes me laugh loudly, causing a small, uncertain smile to creep along her lips.

“Did I say something funny?”

“Not intentionally. It’s just… you said you know about me from the news, about me and my father, and I would assume my family as a whole. They tend to paint a very specific picture of us because we let them, but shouldn’t that be enough to scare you away?”

Brooke hesitates then she shakes her head. “No.” The intensity in her voice suggests the Irish scare her a lot more.

“Then do you really think that legal documents of any kind hold any real weight here? If I were to draw up a proper contract, and sign it with all of your terms, how well do you think that would hold up in my court?”

“Well enough,” Brooke replies. “Like I said, I watch the news. Your family name holds more power than the cops do, so in a legal court of law I know that document would win. And just so you know, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure my daughter’s safety.”

That’s her motivation, clear as day.

If it is the Irish they owe the money to, I know she’s acting to protect her child and I value that. However, a few weeks ago, I was what she needed to keep her daughter safe but now things are shifting. She wants a guarantee that her daughter will be protected from everything, including me.

“Alright.” I take a drink. “I will get you your contract.”

“And you’ll sign it?”

I nod, tilting the glass back and forth. “Now come here.”

A glint of confusion shines in her eyes as she walks toward me, stopping a foot away.

“Get down on your knees.”

She complies immediately, and in that moment, I know she is mine.