“This is fucking undignified,” Enric grumbled as Mac helped to pull him from the vehicle and into his waiting wheelchair.
“Next time I can build a ramp into the back of the SUV, shove the back seats down to give you some room, and you can just wheel yourself in and out, how’s that?” Mac asked.
Enric glared up at his Capo, his hands already clasping tightly around the wheels of his chair, looking ready to get the hell away from Mac as soon as he possibly could. “Was that serious or sarcasm?”
“Bit of both.”
Enric made a disgusted noise under his breath. “Of course, it was.”
“Depends on how you like the idea.”
“I’d like to be able to drive myself around.”
Mac’s brow raised at that statement. “Really, the man who refused to even buy himself a shitty little second-hand car a year ago now wants his own vehicle, with all the bells and whistles for someone in a wheelchair, so he can drive himself around?”
“Self-sufficiency, Mac.”
Perhaps.
Or perhaps Enric was just in one of his moods, and this was the easiest thing to moan and groan about.
“It’d be nice, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Do you even have your license?” Mac asked.
Enric shrugged. “Somewhere.”
Mac decided to indulge Enric’s anger and whining, if only because the young man had been so focused on that instead of their arrival at their destination; he knew all too well how Enric would react once he figured out Mac had gotten ahold of the schedule for his physical therapy appointments. Not to mention, with a few phone calls, Mac had managed to get Enric into a new program and facility with great faculty, one of which, he knew personally.
A man in Enric’s position couldn’t ask for more than the best of the best to get him back on track. Mac had decided that regardless of what Enric felt at the moment, eventually on the outside and on the inside, he would be better for making the effort.
Even if he bitched a lot along the way to get there.
Eventually, when he was on his feet, walking, and back to his normal self, Enric would be grateful. Mac had a feeling it was still going be a hellish road to get there.
After all, the road to Hell was paved with good intentions.
Enric surveyed the clinic’s parking lot. His gaze narrowed when his attention fell on the sign above the front entrance. “Physical therapy?”
“You have appointments four days a week.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You haven’t been going to them at all, Enric.”
“I don’t—”
“Want to walk again, apparently,” Mac interrupted.
Enric’s mouth snapped shut audibly before his burning gaze turned on Mac. “I want to fucking walk again, Mac.”
“Then you don’t want to put in the effort because sometimes you need help, and you get tired; sometimes it hurts, or it’s just too much; maybe your body aches, and you need a rest, or you feel like giving up, but saying any of that is undignified to you. Humiliating, even. Degrading as a man to admit you’re scared to do something because you believe that maybe—fuck, just maybe—you can’t do it.”
Enric didn’t say a word.
Mac didn’t really need him to.
“Come on,” Mac urged, “tell me how wrong I am, Enric.”
Stubborn as a fucking mule, Enric didn’t speak.
“This is going to take work,” Mac told Enric, quietly but firmly. “It’s not going to be easy. It’s going to take a long time. You have to want it more than anything else in your life, so that you can truly appreciate it once you have it back. Most of us are born with the ability to learn how to walk and run, and we don’t understand how easily that ability can be taken away. You’re lucky, Enric, because you can get up and walk again if you just put in the fucking effort. There are people who would give anything for the chance you have—stop wasting it.
“What if your father never gets out of prison, huh?” Mac asked sharply, never once allowing Enric to look away from him. “Who is going to help your sisters move into new apartments for college, or move out of dorms after graduations, or even walk them down the aisle when they get married? They’re going to need somebody to do it, if Luca can’t, and my bet is they’ll look to you. How do you plan on telling them you can’t do those things because you didn’t want to work for it when you had the chance?”
Enric’s gaze dropped from Mac, but not before he saw the flash of shame in the younger man’s eyes. “I know that, but I’m busy, too. It’s not as easy as just making the choice to come, I actually have to make the time to be here.”
“We’ll make the damn time. Your moment of wallowing is over, Enric. It’s time to work for it. You want to complain and whine? You can do that when your muscles ache and your bones hurt from therapy. You won’t be complaining because life is so unfair that you have the possibility of a second chance, but you’re too involved in your self-pity to see it.”
“I’m not—” Enric stopped mid-sentence at the sight of Mac’s scowl, then quickly added, “This is unfair. You tricked me here.”
“I’m sorry this happened, it sucks. But you’re better than what you’re being. And you know it, Enric.”
“All right.”
That was that.
Mac let Enric wheel himself to the front entrance, and go inside alone. He had to want it, after all. Mac couldn’t do that for the guy. He had to do that himself.
Satisfied with his good deed for the day, Mac got back in his vehicle, and headed for the heart of the city for some work he had to do.
Or rather, a woman who didn’t like to wait.
It seemed no matter the time of day, there was always some kind of activity inside The Dollhouse. Mac understood that a great deal of made men in the Pivetti Organization made use of the business for more … carnal reasons, despite their supposedly happy wives at home. While he didn’t approve of another man’s infidelity, it also wasn’t Mac’s place to comment on a man’s personal tastes and choices so long as all parties were willing in whatever goings on happened behind the closed doors in The Dollhouse.
But for every man who walked into The Dollhouse with some sort of sex on his mind, another man would be waiting to chat once the business of pleasure was out of the way. Family business was better held at safe establishments, and thankfully, The Dollhouse had proven itself to be just that.
Even with the unfortunate shooting and subsequent attention it received from the officials before the boss was locked away.
Mac, on the other hand, was careful about just how much time he spent at The Dollhouse. He certainly didn’t go there for pleasure—his wife was more than capable of handling his needs whenever and however he wanted them taken care of. And because it was Melina’s business, there was no hiding the fact she was Mac’s wife.
He had no intention of tampering the Pivetti men’s desires to discuss or conduct business, especially in a place where Mac had eyes and ears listening. He figured that if he showed his face at The Dollhouse too much, other men might feel his presence was also being asserted into their business. That would not be good for him on the Capo side of things, or the side where he needed information about the men to make sure everything was running smoothly while the boss was away with no plans of that changing.
Again, eyes and ears.
So, Mac stayed away from the business as much as he possibly could. He only showed up on rare occasions, barely talked to anyone but his wife while he was there, and he didn’t stay for long before leaving without so much as a goodbye to any man he might see on the main floor.
The plan had been working just fine for him.
Today was no exception to that rule as he entered The Dollhouse, his gaze sweeping the main floor and taking inventory of faces he recognized. No one too important, he noted, and certainly not anyone he had been having trouble with—Anthony, to be specific.
Mac quickly crossed the floor, accepting a tumbler of water from one of the servers as he headed for the back office where his wife usually was when she was working. Ever since their son had been born, work, schedules, and life was a carefully planned event for Mac and Melina. He was aware his wife struggled with the idea of working full-time and leaving her newborn son with either Mac’s mother, or even Mac in the evenings, when the baby was so new. But at the same time, his wife was unwilling to hand more control of her business over to someone else so that she had more time to be with her boy.
Melina made it work—somehow. She did paperwork at home, and worked evenings when Mac was done for the day. She broke her days up between being home, or at The Dollhouse, and then back again.
She was tired. He knew she had to be. At the same time, Melina was too stubborn, and too hard of a worker to let any venture of hers fail.
Mac had all the respect for his wife in that regard.
He was not about to tell her that she couldn’t do something when he, more than anyone else in their lives, knew exactly what Melina Morgan Maccari was capable of. So far, they had made this work, and that was exactly what he planned to continue to do as long as his wife wanted to do so as well.
Of course, he didn’t think for a second that Melina would ever be the barefoot-homemaker type, but should there ever come a day when that was what she wanted, he’d make sure she had all of that and more, too.
Happy wife, happy life.
Mac had already learned that in his short marriage.
At the end of the hallway, Mac was surprised to find his wife’s office door firmly closed. She knew he would be there to visit for the afternoon before he had to pick up Enric after the appointment, so he was confused why her office wasn’t open as it usually would be. Melina only closed her door when she had someone inside, and didn’t want the conversation being overheard.
Like when Mac was there.
He knocked three times on the door—twice lightly, once firmer. That way, Melina would know it was him, and not just anyone waiting on the other side of the door. It took another ten minutes before he heard the latch slide for the inside deadbolt.
Mac took a step back from the door, curious as to who would be so important to his wife that she wouldn’t even allow him inside while she talked with them.
Relief settled through Mac as one of Melina’s girls who worked at the club stepped out of the office, giving a quick assurance over her shoulder before passing him by in the hallway. She barely spared him a glance at all. Mac recognized the girl as one Melina considered a friend, of sorts, as she had been stuck with the girl as a bunkmate while in jail.
Erika, he believed was her name.
The relief he had felt was short-lived, as Mac was once again reminded that his wife had made him wait while she talked with Erika. Had it been a man inside, one of the many guards for the place, Melina would have let him inside in a heartbeat, especially if there was an issue to discuss about a girl or patron.
What had been so private with Erika that Melina didn’t want Mac to hear it?
“Are you going to stand out there in the hallway all afternoon, or bring me the take-out you promised?” Melina called from inside the office.
Mac pushed his concerns aside for the moment, plastered on his signature smirk, and entered his wife’s office. As usual, Melina sat behind her large desk, queen of the room like always. It made him smile—genuine and wide—to see how well she commanded her own space, and how damn good she looked doing so.
He held up the bag of take-out. “From your favorite place.”
“Life saver,” Melina replied, snatching the bag as soon as he was close enough to hand it over. “Thanks.”
“Always welcome, doll.”
Mac dropped a kiss to the top of his wife’s head as she began emptying the cartons from the bag. His hand found the back of her neck to feel the heat of her body and softness of her skin. It was also a way for him to gage whatever internal stress she might be feeling, but not exactly showing, depending on how taut her muscles felt there.
She was smooth and relaxed under his touch.
Mac took the carton of chicken and noodles Melina offered, setting himself on the very edge of the desk as he dug into his food and she opened up her own. “Important meeting, or what?”
Melina glanced up, her plastic fork freezing in front of her opened lips. “Pardon?”
“Erika, right?”
She set her food aside. “What about her?”
“I know she’s someone you consider a friend and all …”
Melina’s eyebrow arched high. “Say whatever it is, Mac.”
Mac was too smart for that, especially where his wife was concerned. Nothing good would come from him spitting out his thoughts without any consideration to how she might take them, especially if the way he felt was the complete opposite to his wife’s feelings regarding the girl.
“You know I have access to the books, right?” Mac asked. “Both sets of books, doll.”
By both sets of books, Mac was referring to Melina’s accounting that happened before the clean-up came. Books that showed specific girls, clients, and how much cash men were throwing at which woman when he spent his time with her. Mac knew exactly which girls brought in the most cash at The Dollhouse, and from which man that seemed to favor them.
Erika was no exception.
“Is there a point you’re trying to make?” Melina asked calmly.
Well, Mac was taking that as a win. He hadn’t seemed to piss his wife off yet, and that was one of his many priorities next to keeping her safe, of course.
“Erika brings in decent cash,” Mac said.
“Yep.”
Melina popped a bite of food into her mouth, saying nothing else.
“But it’s all from one client, too.”
“And?”
“That client is Anthony Corelli, doll.”
Melina didn’t blink a lash. “I’m aware.”
“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”
A sensual smile curved his wife’s lips at the corners. “Nope.”
Mac sighed, putting his food aside and stepping down from the edge of the desk. Melina turned her chair to face him, and he bent down to put his hands on her bare knees while his eyes met hers. Face to face, there were no games between them, no jokes or misinterpreted words. He really needed his wife to hear him for this, and this was one of the only ways he could ensure that would be the case.
“Melina, that girl’s only client is a man that has—at times—made it his mission to ruin me,” Mac said, “and you’re hiding behind closed doors with the chick.”
Melina frowned. “Is that what you think?”
“No, not necessarily, but it could have that impression on certain people.”
“People like Anthony?”
Mac shrugged. “Exactly.”
“Maybe that’s part of the point, Mac.”
Well, he had not been expecting to hear that. “Go on.”
“Erika isn’t interested in picking up other clients besides Anthony because she doesn’t need to. He keeps her well paid so that she is always at his beck and call, and only his. He likes that, and I think part of that reason is—”
“You,” Mac interjected quietly.
“She’s mentioned things—he talks about me, sometimes you. Obviously there are some similarities between Erika and I.”
Mac tried really hard not to scoff, and failed like a cafone. “Skin color, but that’s about it.”
“Be nice.”
“That’s it, doll.”
“Be that as it may, Mac, I think Anthony has a taste, and Erika fits that bill. He is her client, he keeps her paid, and she doesn’t mind … feeding into whatever it is he wants at the time. So, if I can use that to my—our—benefit, than I plan on doing exactly that.”
Mac took in his wife’s words slowly, and what they might mean. “And what are you planning with him and her, exactly?”
“Right now? Nothing. But should there come a time when that trust he has for her can be used to my benefit for something, then yes, you can bet your ass I plan on using it for anything I can.”
“Doll …”
“What?”
Mac sighed. “Don’t go making games where there aren’t any to be played.”
Melina smiled in that way of hers again. “There’s something I’ve learned about this life of ours.”
“Do tell.”
“Everyone is playing a game, even if you don’t realize you’re a piece on the board. This is no different. I just might be a step or two ahead of the rest.”
“Be careful, Melina. I don’t want you stepping into someone else’s pile of shit.”
“As long as Anthony is the one cleaning it off my boots, I don’t give a damn.”
Be that as it may …
“You need to be careful who you trust,” Mac said simply.
Melina nodded. “That, Mac, is one thing you don’t need to worry about.”
“But you will tell me if something important comes up, or if shit turns sour in some way, right?”
“Always.”
That was all Mac needed to know. While he still didn’t feel one hundred percent okay with whatever plans Melina had going on where Erika and Anthony were concerned, he had to step back and trust his wife to do the right thing.
And hell, if she did stumble upon the kind of information that might do Mac some good while doing harm to Anthony at the same time, he wasn’t about to complain. He simply didn’t want to see his wife get hurt in some way over her … scheming.
“Be careful,” Mac said again as he retook his seat on the edge of the desk.
“Got it. Now you tell me, how did it go with Enric?”
“Easier than I expected.”
“How much guilt did you put on his shoulders?”
Mac smirked. “A bit.”
“He’ll be grateful, Mac.”
He knew that, too.
“But he’s going to hate me on the way there,” Mac muttered heavily.
“Probably.”
It was not going to be an easy road.
It would be a road worth traveling, though.
That made all the difference.
“Before I forget,” Melina said, gaining Mac’s attention again. “Meet me at your mother’s tonight for supper—bring Enric, too. We have plans to make.”
“What now?”
He didn’t mean to sound so whiney, but Jesus, they hadn’t stopped since the baby was born.
“Marquise’s christening.”
Ah.
Yeah.
Mac couldn’t say no to that. “Family first, doll.”
Melina laughed. “God is a very close second.”
Very close.
It would be a big day for them all, and they had some important choices to make regarding who would be involved in a special way. Mac had to admit, he was looking forward to it a little bit.
Christenings were … special in their lifestyle.
Almost, if not as important, as weddings and births, really.
Mac finished his meal quickly, knowing by the time he got back to the other side of the city, Enric would be just about done with his appointment. He didn’t want to make the man wait, because as it was, Enric wouldn’t be in a good mood once he got out of the physical therapy appointment. It was hard, exhausting work. Mac didn’t need to pile on to Enric’s troubles.
With a goodbye kiss to his wife, one that lingered long enough to make him wish time would speed up just enough for Melina to get her medical okay from the doctor to resume intimacy, Mac was heading out of The Dollhouse without a look back. He had noticed a couple of new faces in the main floor as he left, however, and he’d seen Erika sitting alone at the bar, nursing a cocktail of some kind.
Anthony hadn’t been there at all, it seemed.
Mac wondered why Erika bothered to spend time at The Dollhouse when her client was not there. He knew Melina didn’t require the girls to put in a set number of hours, and if Erika only really catered to Anthony, her presence wasn’t needed at the business all the time.
He put the thoughts out of his head, deciding to worry about it another day. Erika was just a woman working for his wife, after all.
And what was good for Melina, would always be just fine for Mac.