Page 28 of Volatile Vice

Which is of course fine with me.

Because God knows I need a fucking drink. The bourbon didn’t quite get me where I need to be to get through this painful ordeal.

Then again, I want my wits about me. Things could go south between my grandfather and McAllister at any time.

“Vinnie,” McAllister says, “how’s your golf game?”

Oh my God, seriously? We’re mobsters. We don’t play golf. Do we?

“Nonexistent,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow. “We’ll have to change that. The best deals are made over golf games, right, Mario?”

Does my grandfather golf? I should know that.

“I don’t think golf will be my thing, Declan,” I say. “I prefer to do business in an office. Or over a drink.”

“We all enjoy that,” McAllister says.

Belinda sits next to me, looking at her plate the whole time. She still hasn’t made eye contact with any of us that I can see.

She’s been trained well. Be a good woman and stay put and shut up.

But she’s also been trying to stand out as a piano prodigy.

The poor little girl. She deserves so much more than what she has been born into.

Thank God Savannah didn’t suffer this fate.

My own mother did. She was married off at eighteen. Grandfather’s only child, and he chose my father for her. I’m sure he had a reason for that, though he doesn’t seem to think much of my father anymore.

There’s a story there that I don’t know. A story I’ll need to ferret out. I need to find every skeleton in my grandfather’s closet if I’m going to take him down.

We finish our lunch with small talk among the three of us grown-ups while Belinda continues to be silent.

Our plates are clear, and dessert arrives. Simple vanilla ice cream with caramel sauce.

“Belinda’s favorite again,” McAllister announces. “The caramel sauce is homemade.”

“You have excellent taste, Belinda,” my grandfather says. “Who needs chocolate when you can have vanilla?”

“Belinda is allergic to chocolate,” McAllister says. “So we’ve learned to really love vanilla in this household.” He slowly moves his gaze onto me. “It was Miles’s favorite too.”

Dead silence.

Miles, who tried to rape Savannah, and he was ready to kill Falcon until my father killed him.

And here we all are, eating shepherd’s pie and ice cream, talking as if none of that ever happened. Like we’re just all the best fucking friends.

I can’t help turning to look at Belinda when her older brother is mentioned.

She’s tugging on her lower lip with her teeth. It’s the first time I’ve seen any kind of facial expression from her at all.

He was her big brother.

He may have been a rapist, a criminal, and a genuine piece of shit, but maybe he was nice to her. Who the hell knows?

Everybody has family.