Total pages in book: 181
Estimated words: 171979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 860(@200wpm)___ 688(@250wpm)___ 573(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 171979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 860(@200wpm)___ 688(@250wpm)___ 573(@300wpm)
And Dante’s cigar smoke did in fact reek and would stink up the office long after Dante returned to his home.
“You know Nadia won’t let me smoke in our house,” Dante gruffed out, sucking the sweet cigar between his gruff lips like it was going to be his last.
A lot of changes had been made recently within the family. Dante had moved out of the Caruso family home to live with Nadia. And hell, they even had facial hair. Before, only Lucca was allowed to defy his father by having a beard, but not only did Sal let his grow in, Dante was fashioning his own. However, some things never changed.
Lucca pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pockets and placed a stick in his mouth in a desperate attempt to mask the cigar smell.
Sal couldn’t help but laugh.
Over the years he’d spent with the Caruso family, he had grown used to the smell of cigarettes, considering Lucca had picked up the bad habit at a young age. Being best friends, he really didn’t have a choice but to get used to it. The cigars, though, he never could. They just smelled, well, old.
“Have you tried smoking outside?” Lucca asked ironically as he burned the end of the cigarette after flipping open his Zippo.
It was safe to say those words went down like a sinking ship …
Thinking of something cheerful while father and son continued their arguing match, he thought back to last night. Was it bad of him to have enjoyed seeing Valerie getting arrested?
He sniggered internally.
Probably.
But who cares? He sure didn’t.
His lips twitched at the memory of her cursing him out. He couldn’t think of a better comeuppance than seeing the embarrassment on her face as she walked handcuffed toward the car. The joy he felt was so extreme he was thinking of going to confession when he got off work.
A frustrated Lucca put out the bud of his cigarette, ready to leave. “If you’ve just come to smoke, then I don’t understand why I have to be in here.”
That was the exact question Sal himself had all morning since his glorious weekend had been cut short when he was called early into work, and he was about to get his answer.
“I just wanted to talk about what happened over at the Horseshoe and make sure nothing like that could happen here at the Casino Hotel.”
Dante’s gaze had moved to Sal as he spoke, but it was Lucca who answered.
“Is that a joke?”
“No.” His icy gaze went back to his son’s. “Why?”
“For you to even question Sal’s capabilities is offensive.” His friend and boss continued speaking on his behalf. “You know exactly who he is.”
While Sal appreciated the vouch of confidence, he did understand why Dante would ask, ’cause like his cigars, he was … old. And the older generation just didn’t understand computers.
“It’s fine,” Sal said, taking no offense. “I assure you that you have nothing to worry about. No one can crack through the Casino Hotel’s firewalls unless it was me on the other side.”
“Are we done here?” Lucca asked, clearly ready to wrap this up. But, as if on cue, a knock on the office door had them all turning their heads toward it.
“Come in,” Dante bellowed, ignoring his son’s cold glare as he continued making himself right back at home.
Kent Bryant walked through the door, spoiling Sal’s good humor.
He had a healthy distrust in Kent. Lucca and Dante would use Kent’s services when they needed legal expertise that other lawyers refused in fear of getting disbarred. Not to mention, Sal also had his own personal reasons for disliking him and was holding a grudge.
“Sorry, I hope I’m not interrupting.”
“You’re not interrupting. Come in, Kent. What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Dante’s cold gaze slashed to Lucca’s again as he tapped his ashes forcibly in an ashtray. “Someone suing us that Lucca hasn’t yet told me about?”
Sal watched the battle between father and son brew all over again. To be fair, Dante’s glare was more formidable. He had years of practicing it before Lucca had stepped into his shoes. That was where the OG generation prevailed over the new generation. They were some classy-looking, mean motherfuckers.
Lucca, however, was just a mean motherfucker.
“No, I spent the night here in the casino, enjoying myself at blackjack, and thought I would mix some pleasure with business before I get changed and go to work. I’ve lost my ass at your table, and if there were any legal advice you needed”—a cunning smile was pasted on the lawyer’s lips—“I can write the loss off as a tax deduction.”
“We’re good,” Lucca answered before Dante could.
Kent’s disappointment was palpable, but he shrugged it off. “Oh, well, can’t blame a guy for trying.”
Kicking back in the chair, Dante crossed his ankles. “How much you lose?”