Page 277 of John + Siena: The Complete Duet

Arthur didn’t look entirely convinced, but he nodded nonetheless. John didn’t offer his hand to shake, but that was mostly because Andino had been the one to call this meeting. It was his job, and his show. John was just there to take attendance, and know what the hell was going on plan-wise.

Because he didn’t know shit.

Not at the moment.

Andino gestured at the table. “Sit, Arthur, and we’ll chat.”

Arthur glanced at his watch as he sat down. “I don’t have a lot of time here, Andi. I am running shorter and shorter on time lately.”

“This won’t take long.”

Once all the men were sitting at the table, the waiter came back. He had John’s water with ice ready, and a glass of what looked to be whiskey for Arthur.

“Still your preferred drink, right?” Andino asked.

Arthur nodded. “It is when we do business. What do you need, Andino?”

“Always to the point.”

“I have to be with you and your father.”

“I need quiet streets,” Andino said. “Peaceful business. Less attention from the media, and officials. I would like for the detectives to quit calling my lawyers five times a day trying to get me in for different interviews. Do you get what I am getting at?”

“Don’t you think you and your father have called in enough favors with me?”

Andino smirked. “I mean, you call them favors, but we call it repaying a debt. You know how this works Arthur.”

The D.A.’s face reddened.

Andino nodded like he expected that. “Or blackmail. That works, too. You see, we would really hate for information to get out on that dog fighting ring you had going on. Dad keeps impeccable records when it comes to his people, though, so something could still accidentally slip out should it need to.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “There’s no need to go down that road, now.”

“So you keep saying.”

“Andino—”

“And yet you give me trouble every time I need something from you,” Andino interjected with a calm, cold tenor.

It was almost amusing to John how his cousin often reminded him of their uncle, Dante, at times like this. Giovanni—Andino’s father—could, of course, be cold and harsh when needed, but this was something altogether different.

This was a strange kind of detachment that Giovanni—no matter the situation he was put in—just could not achieve. He was like John in the way that he reacted based on emotions, and it was often that same thing that worked to his benefit when it came to making a point, or getting what he wanted.

The cold detachment, though?

That was Dante Marcello all over.

“Maybe that’s because you need things from me far too often,” Arthur responded heatedly.

Andino kept his demeanor, unruffled and unbothered. “And I will continue to need things from you until you are useless to me. At the moment, you are not useless. Maybe you should count that amongst your good traits because once someone becomes useless to me, you would not be pleased to find out how I dispose of them.”

John smiled to himself.

This was amusing.

He was glad he showed up.

“Jesus Christ.” Arthur took a long sip of his whiskey, and then set the glass down a little harder than was necessary to the table. “You’re fucking relentless, Andino.”