Page 25 of Cameron's Contract

“The issue’s been resolved. Not an ideal outcome. Swift but sure.”

I sat back, stunned.

I’d always resisted the idea my father and I were alike, fearing I too could be as cold.

He pointed to the plate. “Baked over charcoal. Leaves from India.”

“And blended by you.”

He gave a shrug. “Maybe I’ll move to Kentucky and buy a racecourse. Willow would like that.”

“Mom might be a little vexed.”

“She’ll get over her fall from grace when she realizes what kind of real estate we can get for the same price of this house.”

“It will be sad to sell this place.”

“So many memories.”

Fewer for me after a childhood spent at boarding school.

He shook his head. “We have the photos.”

I doubted there were any of me. I took another sniff of tea, suppressing this discomfort.

Dad stared at me. “I wanted you well out of the way.”

“Excuse me?”

“Growing up. As a boy.”

“Understandable,” I said, my voice surprisingly strong.

“Didn’t want you anywhere near those thugs.”

My gaze rose from the tea to meet his.

“When I took over from your grandfather, there was still the residual mafia bullies. Many businesses in New York were subject to the stranglehold of the La Cosa Nostra.”

“Crime families?”

“Gambino, Colombo, Luchese, Bonanno, and Genovese maintained order with a strict hierarchy. Their rule was so fierce the very profits they sought could just as easily dissipate when the businesses they crippled went under.” Dad brought the plate back to his side. “Today we merely hand it over to legal.”

My father’s legal team Blander, Fleiss, and Remington was the very best money could buy.

“Back then, when you were a boy, they went after the family,” he said. “It was best to tuck you away safely where no one could reach you.”

Not even my parents apparently, with rare visits and rarer trips home. Which left little sentimentality for this place and its overreaching social splendor.

“You should have explained this to us,” I said.

“And scare you? Heavens no.”

“I’m glad you’re sharing it with me now.”

He looked surprised. “You were always so defiant.”

Those tea leaves took on a shape, their scattered edges forming fragility.