Page 10 of The Enemy Protector
Dinner with Tori is at a wine bar in the West Village. Tori has been my closest friend since our freshman year. She knows who I am. She knows what I am and doesn’t judge. Her family is from the Midwest and her closest brush with the criminal underworld was aThe Godfathermarathon with her brother.
“What’s going on?” she asks, tossing her curly hair in that blissfully carefree way she has.
“Nothing,” I lie easily.
“Sofia.”
I take a drink of my wine. “It’s not good news.”
She straightens, hand reaching out to squeeze my arm. “Tell me.”
I feel some of the tension leaving my shoulders. "My dad confirmed the cancer is worse than he's been saying. The timeline is shorter."
Tori sighs. "I’m sorry, Sofia."
"I'm okay.” I force a smile. For her, this would be devastating news. She’s normal. I am no such thing. "We're not that close, he and I. You know that. It's not—he's my father and I don't want him to die but I'm not going to sit here and pretend there's something between us that isn't there.”
She watches me over her wine glass. She’s looking for the tells I’m learning to hide. To make it in this world, I have to learn how to be like my father. Guarded. No emotion.
"How are you, though?” she asks softly. “For real.”
"I'm fine." And I mean it, mostly. "He confirmed the inheritance. You’re looking at the next pakhan."
“Is that a thing?” she asks. “I mean, inThe Godfatherworld, there’s a don. Can you be a pakhan?”
I laugh. “Nope, but here’s me breaking glass ceilings.”
Tori lifts her glass. "To being a very intimidating twenty-one-year-old female pakhan."
I laugh and the laugh is real and that helps. We drink.
My phone buzzes on the table. I glance at it and see one of the enforcers. They all have my number and know to call me if there are issues with our legitimate businesses or the ones that may not be above board.
I glance at the screen. Viktor. I hold up one finger to Tori and answer.
“Yeah.”
“We have a situation with the tenant on Garfield.” Viktor’s voice is calm. Matter-of-fact. He’s been doing this long enough to know how to talk on a phone. “He’s decided he doesn’t want to renew the lease terms.”
I set my wine glass down. “He said that?”
“Said he heard the property management company is under new ownership soon. Figured he’d wait and see what the new terms look like.”
Meaning he heard Mikhail is dying and decided to test the waters. See if the heir has teeth. Classic.
“The lease terms aren’t changing,” I say. “Same rate. Same schedule. First of the month.”
“He pushed back pretty hard.” A pause. “Said he’s got other options.”
“He does,” I agree pleasantly. “There’s a lovely industrial space in Jersey. A little further from his suppliers, I’d imagine. And he’d have to renegotiate with the Morano family on distribution, which I hear they’re not easy to work with these days.”
Tori is watching me the way she always watches me during these calls. Chin resting in her hand. Eyes slightly narrowed. Reading every word I’m not saying out loud. I can’t come right out and tell her. She needs plausible deniability. I love her, but I trust no one. I will not walk myself into a prison sentence. My circle will get tighter once I ascend to the top. The feds could try to use Tori against me. She’s a good person without a criminal background to be used against her, but there are always buttons to push. I cannot expose myself. Ever.
“You want me to go explain his options?” Viktor asks.
“I want you to go remind him that good landlords are hard to find, and we’ve always treated him fairly. The rate reflects that fairness.” I keep my voice light. Conversational. “If he still wants to explore his other options after your conversation, we’ll wish him well and start looking for a new tenant.”
“And if he needs a little more convincing?”
