"You sure this is the place?" I asked, clocking the unmarked black van across the street.
"Joey's not smart enough to bluff. He is ambitious though and he hates my guts. There's not much he wouldn't do to take me out of play as daddy's future heir. I'm not sure what we're walking into," said Stacy from next to me as we stood at the entrance of Hotel Topaz.
"Yeah, I'm out," said Kenny on the other side of me, turning to walk away.
I grabbed him by his suit jacket and pulled him back to the spot next to me.
"Sorry," said Kenny, fixing his collar before attempting to turn and make a run for it again.
Just as he turned, he bumped into a man dressed in overalls, presumably some sort of service delivery man. This sent Kenny stumbling back, smack into me.
"Sorry again," he said.
"Look, I know this is scary. I'm terrified, but Willow is my sister and I don't really have much of a choice. If either of you wants out, I'll understand," I said, taking the invite Joey had given Kenny for us out of his inner pocket.
"None of this would have happened if it weren't for my stupid brother. I'm in," said Stacy.
"Ken?" I asked.
"Willow never would have met Joey if it weren't for me taking her to that club last night. I'm in too. This better be the story of my career," Kenny said begrudgingly. "For God's sake, put this on. You're going to stick out like a sore thumb."
He shrugged off his jacket and pulled it over my shoulders. I slid my arms into the sleeves, then my gaze landed on Stacy's state of dress. With the panicked call to Kenny to find out where Willow was and the rush to get here, I had completely forgotten that she was braless. I shrugged back out of the jacket and slid her arms into the sleeves.
"I wondered when you'd get there. Best friend goals, you two," Kenny muttered, looking between Stacy and I as we traded awkward looks.
Her cheeks turned light pink. I buttoned the jacket up for her, smiling at her dotingly.
"It's going to be okay," I said, not really believing myself, but feeling the need to say it to her.
She nodded her head, smiling back. She was just putting on a brave face for me, I could tell, but just then I needed to see her smile. It calmed me down as I led the way into the hotel. At least six suits were at the front desk, all with earpieces.
I checked my phone for the umpteenth time. Still no response from Willow. On a hunch, I scrolled through my contacts for Jeff and sent a quick text.
Scott: Party is in the basement of Hotel Topaz. Tell your people where to look.
Then we stepped up to the front desk and presented the invitation to the receptionist.
"One moment, please," she said with a practised smile.
She went to get her manager, who then came up to us and held out his hand. I took it and we shook hands.
"Welcome to Hotel Topaz. Any guests of Mr. Cattaneo are of the utmost importance to us," he said, gesturing for us to follow him.
Stacy's eyes widened. On our way to the elevator, Stacy pulled on my hand. We stopped, while Kenny and the manager went ahead.
"I can't go in there," said Stacy, wringing her hands nervously. "Mr. Cattaneo is either Don Marcus Cattaneo or his son, Luca Cattaneo," she said, taking a deep breath.
"Okay? Help me out here, Stace. I don't speak mafia," I said, laying my hand on her arm in an attempt to calm her down.
"I'm his accountant, okay? I have been for the last nine years. In fact, I do the books for all five families of the American mafia," she said, her eyes locked on mine as she waited for a reaction. "That's it, Scott. That's my thing. It's what I do. Did."
She did a nervous little dance, waiting for me to say something. This would have been a big moment for me, one in which she'd trusted me with her biggest secret yet. Who she really was. At any other time, I would have been celebrating that she wasn't a murderer, madame or something worse. Instead, we were about to walk into a mafia hosted party and my sister was missing. Everything was a mess.
"How is that possible? Nine years ago you were only sixteen. You didn't even have any college experience yet," I said, trying to refute her claim.
"I have an IQ of 160, Scott. Photographic memory, consume books much faster than the average person. Ring a bell?" she said impatiently, willing me to get there faster.
"Photographic memory. That's how you got out of the mafia. You threatened to turn on your father. You threatened your father? Are you crazy? Did you threaten this Don Marcus guy too?"
"No," she said. "But Scott, Don Marcus is… Luca's my fiance."
"No, he's not. For two people to be engaged, one person has to ask and the other has to accept. That's not what happened," I said, taken off guard by her calling someone her fiance for the second day in a row.
"Scott, focus. Don Marcus and Don Angelo are very close. By now word about what I did has gotten out. You don't know Don Marcus. He's unstable. A wild card. If he manages to trap me on his turf, there's no telling what he'll do," she said, stumbling over her words to get to the point.
"He isn't going to risk destroying his relationship with your father by dragging you down the aisle," I said, spitting out the most outrageous scenario I could come up with, other than death.
Despite the circumstances, I was still very bitter about the idea of her getting married and it was impacting my judgement.