Scott and I had what felt like less than thirty seconds to meet up with Kenny, who had found Willow throwing up in the bathroom, before we were discovered.
"Stay with Willow. Lay low. Find a different way out of here and then text it to me and whatever you do, don't come up to us until the time is right," Scott had said to Kenny.
"Incoming," I said, spotting Don Marcus and Luca at a poker table not too far away.
Both of them here threw me for a loop. One was bad enough as it is, but both of them? It was an uncommon and unfortunate occurrence.
They had spotted us too. Luca and I made eye contact as he whispered to the two big hulks now headed our way.
"How will I know when the time is right?" asked a nervous Kenny.
"Trust me, you'll know. Now go," said Scott, seamlessly turning away from Kenny just as Luca's men approached us.
"Don Marcus wants to talk," said one of the big guys, hands behind his back.
"Lead the way," said Scott, his voice almost chipper.
If his heart was beating as loudly as mine you wouldn't know it. He walked along swiftly, passing the craps and black jack tables and the people hanging around them. The stench of alcohol and sweat made bile rise up in my throat, but I kept it down, trying my best to stay calm as we made our way through the underground casino.
"Look what the cat dragged in, eh? The Bookkeeper, in the flesh," said Don Marcus, cigar in one hand and his hand of cards in the other.
Scott and I were forced to sit on opposite ends of the table. Him next to Luca and me next to Don Marcus. He gave me a quick reassuring smile which I returned, before giving my attention to Don Marcus.
"Don Cattaneo, Luca. Charmed," I said, avoiding the right hand Don Marcus presented me with.
Your allegiance is to Don Angelo alone. No one else.
I could hear my father's voice in my head. In this world, being a Luciano meant it was better to be disrespectful than to show fear.
After some time, Don Marcus took his cigar holding hand away, pinning me with his steely gaze.
Scott checked his watch, then looked up, straight into Luca's face. To his credit, he looked him dead in the eye, which served to amuse Luca.
"Raise," said Luca, tossing a few chips forward. "What's it to be, padre?"
"All in," said Don Marcus, pushing all of his chips forward. "Are you all in, bambina? Luca's very excited about your impending nuptials. In our line of business, a man is only as good as his word. You don't mean to make a liar of your father, do you?"
All eyes were on me as they awaited a response. Only Scott seemed distracted, studying the room as though he were looking at a set of photos he had just developed.
"Don Luciano no longer speaks for me," I said bravely, wishing I had a drink in my hand. "Any future marriage proposals will have to go through me, I'm afraid."
"Royal flush," said Luca, grinning at me as he cut his angry father off. Whom Don Marcus was more pissed at, me or Luca, I couldn't say. "Sorry padre."
"You think it's that easy to walk away from the mafia? From a promise to Don Cattaneo?" said Don Marcus, his nostrils flaring.
"Easy, padre. Stacy's a smart woman. She knows that in our line of business, there is no choice but to be all in," said Luca, collecting all his chips.
"Is that a Picasso?" Scott chimed in, his jaw ticking. "Second one I have spotted since I sat down."
I forced my jaw to stay closed as I glared at Scott. He looked at me briefly, then leaned back in his chair, paying me no mind as he continued to scour the room. What the fuck was he doing?
"Impressive forgeries," said Luca, lifting his glass of whiskey to his lips as he looked back at Scott.
"Nah. There's a Van Gogh right next to the Picasso and I'm willing to bet that they're both very real. Both are probably very stolen too. Like every other painting in this place," Scott said, looking between Don Marcus and Luca with a smug look on his face.
"That's all fascinating, if it's true. How could you possibly know any of that for sure?" Don Marcus asked, his attention shifting to Scott.
I had no doubt that my face had the same question written all over it. I almost fell out of my chair. His misplaced confidence was making me sweat and I didn't like where this was going at all.
"What? I read too. Mostly books with pictures in them, but I do read," Scott said, looking at me.
I wanted to strangle him where he sat.
"I'm no expert, of course, but then I don't need to be because the silent auction happening up front tells the story. You're businessmen at the end of the day. Who in their right minds from amongst all your rich clients would buy from you again if you sold them a forgery? The art in this room must be worth hundreds of millions of dollars," said Scott.
"Don Cattaneo, excuse my friend. He majored in art," I said with a hiss, but the don was already out of his chair.
"Who is this kid, a narc? Get him out of my hotel," Don Marcus thundered.
Luca, ever the cool customer, motioned for his men to back off, then for his father to sit down.
"Imagine if, hypothetically, the feds were on their way to raid this place. Wouldn't that be something?" Scott asked, revving the don's engine more.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up, Scott Brady.
Luca remained unfazed. He looked at the dealer and nodded at him. The man began to shuffle the cards.