Page 47 of Angelic Acts
“Syndicate Enterprise is a powerful company. It has such a reputation. What did you say your last name is?” Tom’s tone is so friendly that Lizzy returns her focus to the board, missing the sharp look in his eyes.
“Sebastian Montclair.” There’s tightness in my chest because Tom knows. I should’ve done more research into his past. He didn’t operate in the underground, I know that much. But now I wonder if he did more research in the city after he retired.
“The Montclairs are a powerful family. I’m surprised to find one living in Lizzy’s neighborhood,” Tom muses.
“It’s a good neighborhood. I enjoy how quiet it is.” My hand itches to take my glasses off, but I refrain. Tom will sniff out any weakness.
“I’d like to see it stay that way.” The threat is evident in his firm tone, so I nod.
“It will. I’ve been there for years. I don’t plan on going anywhere.”I won’t let anything happen to the neighborhood. Nor to her.
“It’s your turn.” Lizzy’s voice pulls us to the presence. As Tom turns to face Lizzy, he somehow transforms back into an unassuming elderly man. I didn’t realize how much fiercer he looked while speaking to me.
Tom keeps an eye on me while he plays against Lizzy. I’d say it’s why he loses, but Lizzy is simply more conniving. I itch to play against her. I now have the advantage after studying her strategy.
“Dinner’s ready. We’re having braised short ribs. I’ve spent all afternoon cooking,” Betty says with a smile. Lizzy perking up tells me that it’s going to be a delicious dinner.
Tom mumbles something under his breath. I make out something about “have to sharing” and “undeserving mobster.”
Betty narrows her eyes and turns on him. “What was that?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. This is one of my favorites. I’m excited.” He kisses his wife on the cheek then goes into the kitchen.
“Come on, kids. Make yourselves a plate and come sit.” As she says it, she goes over and serves herself, Tom standing to the side letting the ladies commence.
It’s a homely sight. Even when young, we always had a chef plate our dinners, and servers deliver them. I’m not usedto serving myself in a family environment. The down-to-earth feeling grounds me.
The aroma of the meat and vegetables has my stomach letting out an embarrassing growl. I gingerly serve myself, only for Betty to click her tongue.
“You’re a growing man. You need to eat more than that.” She snatches the tongs from my hand and doubles my portion of meat.
I don’t bother correcting her that I haven’t grown in over a decade. I accept the generous serving and thank her.
“Why don’t I get more?” Tom questions grouchily, glaring at me as though it’s my fault I’ve gained his wife’s favor.
“Because the doctor said you’re fat!” Betty snaps at her husband.
Lizzy makes eye contact with me, and I’m on the verge of laughing as this kind woman snaps at her husband. Lizzy, the naughty fiend, makes a face at me, trying to get me to laugh.
“It’s muscle. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, the son of a bitch,” Tom grumbles, but puts back some of his ribs into the pot.
We sit, and conversation flows easily. Tom occasionally glares at me, but his suspicious nature soothes me. If something happens to me, Tom will protect my angel.
Betty covertly flashes Lizzy grins, but I catch them all. Her questions are kind and curious, simply wanting to learn more about me. When Lizzy tells them about my burgers the other night, Betty gets excited, demanding the recipe. Meanwhile I redden at the memory of what else took place that night.
Tom immediately clocks it and narrows his gaze at me. My main goal for the rest of the evening is to avoid provoking Tom and to show him how much Lizzy means to me.
We end the night in the living room, playing Clue. Within the first ten minutes, I solve the game, but I keep it to myself. When we’re twenty minutes into the game, I suspect I’m not the only one who has figured it out. And by the time twenty-five minutes have passed and Betty finally solves the game, I realize we all were letting her win.
I typically don’t let others beat me at anything, but I figured it wouldn’t help my situation with Tom if I beat him at his game in his house.
The night ends when Lizzy starts yawning. I cross the room and offer her a hand to help her up. We stand and collect our coats. While Betty fusses over Lizzy, Tom approaches me.
“You better treat her right. I won’t tolerate anything differently.” His voice is low, his tone serious.
“Yes, sir. I’ll never hurt her. She’s all I could ever ask for. I will treasure her forever,” I swear to him.
“You love her.” He doesn’t ask it. It isn’t a question, but a statement. He’s telling me he knows.
