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“Political thing. Vince set it up. We’ll eat in public for the first time together. Vince says we need to be seen.”
“Well, if Vince says—” I settle onto the back of the ATV and wrap my arms around his waist. “Then we’d better go.”
19
BASS
I’ve been to dozens of dinners like this over the years. A man in my position has to learn how to rub elbows with the wealthy and the powerful, especially local politicians. Always it’s a pain, always it’s like walking barefoot over broken glass.
But not tonight. Instead, on the car ride over to the restaurant, I can’t stop staring at my wife.
“What?” she asks, blushing when she notices.
“Nothing.”
“You keep looking at me.”
“The view’s better.”
She swats at my arm, laughing at my stupid joke. “For a mob boss, you can be shockingly corny.”
God, she’s right. When did that happen? I never would’ve said some shit like that even a few months ago. And now?
It’s like my brain’s melted.
No, I swear, it’s that dress. Dark emerald green. Silken and slightly shimmery. It clings to her body like a glove, and I know that color, god, I know it too well. The same color as that underwear she wore the first night we were together. Her hair’s down around her shoulders, thick and luxurious, and it’s taking a lot of willpower not to fist it right here and now, to kiss her and taste her, to breathe her in and make her come. Low neckline, low back, devilishly expensive if I had to guess.
That dress is dangerous as hell and I don’t know how I’ll stand other men seeing my wife in it.
“Did Lia pick this out?” I finger Mari’s strap.
She smooths the front. “Do you like it?”
“Yes, love. I like it.”
“Really?” She turns pink. “I wasn’t sure. I don’t usually dress like this, but yeah, Lia said I should wear it.”
“You look perfect. Almost too good, actually. I might have to put out some eyes tonight if I’m going to get through dinner.”
“Don’t tell me you have a jealous streak?”
“A mile fucking wide when it comes to you.”
She snorts and it’s so cute I could shatter right now. “Corny as hell.”
We arrive a few minutes later. I hold the door for her and she hangs on my arm as we enter. It’s a high-end place called the Cattleman’s Trust, a former bank, now filled with glass, crystal, wood, leather, and dozens of tables. Limestone walls and original teller cages. The bar is made from the vault door, or that’s what they say.
The entire space was rented out for this evening. It’s packed with men in gator boots and ostentatious suits and their equally over-the-top wives. State senators, lobbyists, businessmen, and more. Vince is in here somewhere though I doubt we’ll talk much. He’s too busy keeping his name clean. I wouldn’t want to drag it through the mud.
“Are people looking at me?” Mari asks, inching closer as I lead her toward the bar. Men part out of my way as I pass.
“Only because you’re beautiful, love.”
That doesn’t make her feel better. I don’t tell her the truth though: the rumors have been flying all over town. Bastiano Serafino married some Mexican cartel girl. Nico says it’s something of a scandal though I don’t fucking know why. Maybe two criminal empires coming together scares them.
I keep a hand on her back as she drinks prosecco. A few men I recognize approach and we shake hands. I introduce them to Mari, make some small talk. State Senator Wade Pruitt is first, the chair of the Transportation Committee, and the exact man I need to keep happy. This part of the job never fit well with my skillset—I’d rather cut throats than kiss asses—but I do my best to smile.
Fortunately, Mari makes up for my lack of socialization. She asks his wife questions about where she got her necklace, pretends to care about their custom snake-skin rug, and coos over pictures of their god-awful white fluffy rat monstrosity.
