Page 45 of Wicked Roses
“You were playing Commissioner Flynn?”
He nods, sipping on his iced water. “We’ve been golfing together since you were hanging up boy band posters in your room. Which reminds me, he mentioned you’re renovating your apartment. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Oh, right. I must’ve forgotten. It’s not major renovations. Just some light aesthetic work. It’s only taking a few weeks,” I say, my face warming up. I clear my throat and reach for my own glass of water to cool down. “Have you ever tried the Mediterranean salad? I wonder if it’s any good.”
“I’ve never had it. I usually stick to the chicken cobb. Where are you staying while the renovations are being done?”
“I’m staying with a friend. It’s just temporary.”
“You can always stay at home with me,” he says, a thread of hope in his tone. “There’s plenty of room.”
“That’s okay, Dad. The daily commute’s too long.”
“I commuted from Westoria to Northam every day for over twenty years. You could hire a driver like I did. It takes the stress off the commute.”
“I prefer to be in the heart of the city. Maybe I’ll go with the pasta primavera. I’m too hungry for just a salad.”
Dad drops the topic, though I don’t miss the flicker of disappointment on his face. Over the past couple of years he’s been upfront about how much he misses Mom.
I miss her too. So much I barely let myself think about it. As I graduated law school, I’d been having doubts about my career trajectory. Her senseless death is what gave me the final push I needed to follow in Dad’s footsteps.
Locking up criminals for a living. The guy who took her life is still on the streets.
Just like the guy who attacked me.
My chest clenches tighter as I reach for my iced water and down a third of it. I can’t give up on pursuing justice. Even if I don’t pursue it for myself, there are thousands of people out there who have been wronged by criminals in the city. The murderers, robbers, rapists, drug dealers, and the like who prey on the weak to make themselves strong.
The big crime families who suck the city dry until there’s nothing left. Families like the Belinis and Viscontis.
The Mancinos.
Salvatore.
“Would you look at that?” Dad interrupts my thoughts, his eyes set on the flat screen TV mounted to the club wall. He wears a grim expression as he shakes his head. “Some things never change. Still up to no good after all these years.”
I glance over at the news report on the TV. Footage of Giorgio Belini being hauled off by the bailiffs from the day of his guilty verdict plays. His face appears even redder and nastier on film, his eyes fanatical and spittle flying from his mouth.
If you think for one second karma’s not gonna knock on your door… HA! You got one ugly storm coming your way, princess!
My deep unease ripples inside of me and reflects on my face. Dad frowns and asks if I’m alright.
“Fine,” I choke out. “Just thinking.”
“You don’t know how proud of you I was when I watched the highlights from the trial. You are my daughter, Delphi sweetie. Tough and sharp like me.”
“Dad…”
“Big shots like the Belinis will try to intimidate you, but you’re an Adams. You can’t be bought. We’re above it and they hate that about us.”
“I’m just doing my job.”
“First the Belinis. Next you’ll be taking down the Mancinos.” The expression that passes over Dad’s face can only be described as hungry—decades worth of starving for something he’s long been denied. In this case, it’s locking Lucius Mancino behind bars. “Delphi, I never succeeded at bringing them down. But if anyone else is capable, it’s you. You’re my prodigy. Mylegacy.”
“We’re not actively investigating the Mancino syndicate.”
“There’s plenty to go off of. Lucius has only spent the last decade priming his successor. That man will be ten times worse than his father.”
My pulse races, though I’m sitting perfectly still. My ears fill with the heavy beat of my heart as I scramble to come up with something to say. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think Dad’s testing the waters right now. He’s trying to figure out how I feel about Salvatore.