Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79462 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 397(@200wpm)___ 318(@250wpm)___ 265(@300wpm)
“Then we’ll leave in a week.”
“No, brother, I’m sorry.” His voice hardens. “That’s not happening.”
I let it sink in. His tone, the way he’s looking at me, I decide I’m dealing with the Don. Not Adler, my brother, but the head of the crime family that controls both our lives. I sit up straighter, meeting his gaze, drawing on all my time as head of my own little kingdom, as the leader of a war-time army. Adler may be good at ordering his scared little capos around New Jersey, but I’ve killed and watched men die in my arms, something none of my other brothers have done.
They’re hard, my brothers. They’re vicious, ruthless killers. But they don’t know what it’s like to wake up every day wondering if it’s going to be their last, which I do.
“I’m not asking now,” I say, again struggling to contain my temper. “I’m telling you. Out of respect, I’ll stay in the Sunrise for another week, but I’m going back home.”
Adler takes a long breath before shaking his head. “No.”
“That’s it? You’re just going to forbid me?”
“Jayson, it’s not time. I know you’re eager to return, but please believe me when I say, you’ll only make things worse. Your properties are being managed by your hand-picked people at the moment, and everything’s running smoothly. If you go back, that might be seen as a provocation.”
“How the fuck is me going home a provocation?”
“Because part of the deal is that I keep you here in New Jersey for at least one year.”
I sit back, stunned.
His words don’t make sense.
My throat tightens. My fingers grip my glass. I take a long drink, throwing it down my throat.
“You didn’t tell me.”
“I was going to. I hoped I’d find a better time to do it, but here we are.”
“You negotiated that point without saying anything.”
“Rian Grady added it in at the last second and I agreed with his logic. You’re still wounded from what happened.”
“He’s not?”
“His family lives there.”
“I live there too.”
“It isn’t the same, Jayson.” Adler’s shaking his head and I can tell I’ve already lost. When my brother gets like this, there’s no reasoning. “Fallon will stay here with you in the Sunrise for the next year. After that’s done and everything overseas has cooled off, the two of you can go back if that’s what you want to do.”
I get to my feet. My head’s ringing. I can barely believe this is happening, but I shouldn’t be surprised. Adler’s the Don, and he does what’s best for the family, regardless of how it might affect everyone else.
Regardless of what his own brother might want.
“I won’t forget this,” I say softly, staring into his treacherous face.
“I know you won’t.”
I place my glass on his desk before leaving his office. In the hallway, I lean back against the wall, jaw clenched shut.
I could defy him. Return to London and my old life. Go back to my friends, my soldiers, and resume acting as the head of the Costa family’s European enterprises. But that would only force Adler to rebuke me, and could lead to an ugly battle, one neither of us could afford to lose.
The Don can’t look weak. That’s the only real sin he can commit—the sin of weakness. Which means I will either obey, or there will be consequences, whether I’m his brother or not.
No, I won’t forget this. Now I understand the order of things and where I fall in them. It was bad enough, forcing his marriage on me, but at least I understood that.
This is unforgivable. I walk away from his office, seething, in search of a way to blow off some frustration.
Chapter 13
Fallon
I wander around the Sunrise trying to get a sense of my new home.
It’s chaotic. Lights, sounds, no sense of direction, no sense of cohesion. The layout is a nightmare, designed to confuse. It doesn’t loop around, barely makes sense. I wander from bar to bar, from grouping of slot machines to more slot machines, past table games and more bars and restaurants, past the flows of tourists and gamblers, past the employees that barely look in my direction.
I live here now, and even though I spent four years of my life in America already, this place is totally insane.
It’s like a shrine to American capitalism gone insane. Like some kind of mutated money-god, a monster consecrated to pure cash. I feel lost in a way I’ve never experienced before, so small and swallowed-up.
Dublin’s a city of history. Dublin’s an old city, but it’s also my home city. I know it better than I know anywhere else, and even though it’s cold and dreary and rains all the time, and there’s an ancient pub on every corner, half of them flooded out, the other half filled with stories that are either completely fabricated or half-true at best, those are my stories, my people, my moldy walls and cheap cider.