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“As I said, it isn’t necessary.”

“This is for me, not you. I protect what’s mine. It’s fair. What you asked for, no more, no less. I marry your daughter, and our assets all remain our own. My name helps you, yours helps me. It’s all there.”

He runs a hand down the front of his face and my stomach tightens. He’s either nervous or hiding something. But I do have a built-in get-out clause.

Unfortunately for him, it’s a bullet to the brain. It’s the same result if he tries to double-cross me. But I don’t think it’ll come to that. He cares for his daughter, and I’ll kill her first. Make him watch.

However, we both need what the other has. The mutual benefits keep things safe and balanced.

“Sign.”

“You’re a nice guy. I think we should ease it up, play it a little looser. You’d benefit more, too. Consider it a wedding gift for you and my daughter.”

“Your Viviana is no longer your concern.”

“I know you’ll look after her.” Vincent is sweating a little. “A good Irish-Italian like you?—"

“Just so you know, I might seem nice, but I’m not. Cross me and I’ll kill you and your family in seconds flat. Are we clear?”

Vincent swallows. “Like glass.”

I hand him my pen.

“What the fuck,” Seamus says after we get in the car, “was that?”

“I don’t know, but I got what I wanted so I don’t care.”

He shifts, facing me as Clive, our driver, pulls out into traffic. “West Village?”

“Take us home, Clive.”

The man doesn’t even blink at the nickname I gave him. I think his actual name’s Martin, but Clive’s good. It works. It’s the name of a driver, harmless. And if something happens to him… the next one will be named Clive, too.

I don’t expect something to happen, unless it’s by my hand. Clive’s a good killer, but too much of a survivor. And he’s no match for me. If he hurts me or mine, crosses us? Lights fucking out.

“You don’t…” Seamus snatches my cigarettes as I pull them out. I take them back and light up, leaning back in my seat and closing my eyes. “You don’t care?”

I shrug. “Not particularly. We get what we want.”

“He was nervous and fucking sweaty. He had three armed men with him.”

This time I sigh, sitting up and looking at my brother. His hair’s short, and he’s clean-shaven like I probably should be. I will, for the wedding. But the fact de Rosa missed we were brothers says a lot about his status.

He’s used to others taking care of things.

So why was he so nervous?

And do I actually care?

“I don’t think it’s a big deal. And besides, we have him in our crosshairs. If he’s having second thoughts or has ideas about screwing us over, I really don’t give a fuck. He can’t touch us and we can, if he tries, take him and his family the fuck out. Either way we win. We’ll be shooting up to the top ofthe New York food chain.” I take a drag. “Dead or alive, he’ll serve us the same.”

“Christ, you really are heartless, Callahan.”

“Don’t forget soulless.” I tousle his hair.

“Get off!”

“How about we check out some businesses to maybe buy and get drunk while we’re at it?”