Page 129 of Vows of a Mobster

“Where do you want me to start?” he asked.

Fuck, is it that bad?

“Do we need to go into my office?”

“Might be better.” He handed me the folder and I opened it.

My eyes skimmed through the information, from her childhood to her ballet years, to her broken relationship with her mother, to moving in with her grandmother and having her child to her child's father.

I broke every single rule when it came to Brianna. I pulled her to me before she went through the examination, before she signed a confidentiality agreement, before I received a detailed background check. That was what happened to men when they used their dicks instead of their heads. It took me forty-nine years but here it was, finally it happened to me too.

I shut the door, then waited for Antonio’s rundown. I skimmed through the information but Antonio studied it. I would need to know it all.

“Tell me,” I told him as I sat behind my desk. The knowledge she was under my roof, only down the hallway of this vast estate, made it hard to remain here. But this was about her. I had to ensure my family wasn’t threatened.

Or what? Am I willing to let her go?

No, I wasn’t. But information was power and it would ensure I could keep her safe. This thing with her was something I wasn’t willing to let go.

“Her father was a Boston city cop,” he started. “When I saw his picture, I thought he looked familiar. He was our inside guy. Brianna’s mother left him, taking the child with her, to marry a California senator. She was five. Her father died when she was about ten.”

“She pretty much told us all that herself,” I told him.

He continued, not missing a heartbeat.

“Yes. Her mother knew about his connection to us. The word was it was the reason she left him, although from the looks of it, that was her excuse. The kid came to the funeral with her stepfather, no mother. Barely made it before they buried her old man. Daphne’s father was actually there. Fucking small world. The kid didn’t want to go back to California, begging her stepfather to stay here with her. When he said he couldn’t, she cried to stay with her grandmother. Mario choked up talking about it. I never saw the man upset, that must have been some fucking funeral show. Poor kid.”

Brianna must have not cared for her mother even as a child. But now that we knew her father was our inside guy, I couldn’t discount that she knew more about our organization than I originally thought.

“A week after the funeral, her mother petitioned the courts to change Brianna’s legal last name to Williams, her stepfather’s last name. She was a rather active kid, professional ballet, competitions, often in the papers. She went to Columbia, met Marissa and Daphne there. She continued doing ballet at the School of American Ballet in the city too. Her stepfather paid for it all.”

I waited. We both knew the part that was concerning was the child’s father. That connection was bad news. And Marissa lied to me. There wasn’t a possibility she wouldn’t have known.

“The child’s father is Declan’s cousin, Kyle Sullivan. The one that disappeared two years ago and Declan tried to pin on us.”

“Does Marissa know?” There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that she did.

“Yes,” he replied, his lips thinned. “Daphne too.”

“Fucking women,” I gritted.

“The birth certificate names the father as unknown,” he proceeded to say and my eyes snapped to him. That was strange. Knowing the Irish, it would have never been allowed.

“Are you sure?”

“I triple checked it,” he confirmed, his voice firm. “I checked all the versions of any vital records. Father has been listed as unknown all along. When she gave birth, Marissa, Daphne, and her grandmother were the only registered visitors. I don’t think the O'Connors know about Brianna nor her daughter.”

“Is there more?”

I really wished it was the end but I knew there was more. How was it possible that a young woman of barely twenty-five had so many secrets?

“I checked Brianna’s phone records back four years. She had no connections with any of the Irish. Two years ago, Brianna called the child's father,” he spoke slowly. “Phone records show one week of contact, then nothing.” He paused and silence was heavy. “It was right at the time of his disappearance. Marissa and Daphne were staying at Brianna’s during that time helping her. The child was sick. Leukemia. This is her second round of treatments.”

The meaning lingered in the air. I wanted to rage, bellow, punish.

“Mateo, there must be more there, but only those three know it,” Antonio must have seen it on my face. My fury at being lied to; my family willing to let men fight and die without being offered honesty.

“We almost went to war against Declan and his men,” I gritted through my teeth. “There would have been deaths, blood on their hands. And Giovanni knew it too! That fucking bastard must have known it.”