Page 46 of A Love Most Fatal

“Okay.” She pats my arm like she’s my coach and this was a good talk. “If you get bored, come up with a list of questions andhave them on my desk by Friday. My family might have some ideas.”

Vanessa sidesteps me and begins walking out of the living room, clicking off lamps as she goes.

“I’ll think about it,” I say, still gaping at her like an idiot.

“Give me an answer sooner than later.” She smiles again. I hate how much I love to see it. “But at least take me up on the training. You can’t be bored if you’re physically exhausted.”

16

VANESSA

This morningI wrote a dollar amount on a scrap of paper and dropped it on the island in front of Nate while he ate a heaping serving of Mom’s oatmeal bake. I could’ve just said the number out loud, but the extra drama was worth it when his eyes nearly fell out of his skull at the price I was willing to pay for his help.

We went back and forth for ten minutes, him saying it’s not nice to lie about money to teachers who, famously, make too little money, especially in this great state of Massachusetts, even at private schools—to which I assured him that I wasn’t lying at all and Willa would even tell him what to do so that he didn’t have to pay taxes on it.

This went over as well as you might expect it to with him; he was indignant that I thought he wouldn’t want to pay taxes, but Mary pointed out that nobody wants to pay taxes and he shouldn’t be such an ungrateful prick.

He shut up then, looked down at the number again, and agreed.

I set him loose on the project and joined Mary and Leo on some rounds; first to a few construction sites, and then on the late payment visits. They’ve been doing more of these since I called for the lockdown, but I’ve attended some. Mary is morethan frightening enough to get people to pay up, but some people just need to be reminded that they wouldn’t have the lives they do, the luxuries they so appreciate, without me. It usually scares them straight. Nobody wants a cold visit from the boss.

We are headed to the third such visit when my phone starts buzzing with a call from Cillian. I answer it on speaker so Leo and Mary can also hear.

“Morelli,” I say, just like my dad used to.

“I think I can get McGowan to agree to $410 million,” Cillian says without preamble.

That’s great, more than I expected he’d be able to get, but still not quite enough for all the modifications McGowan wants. Leo’s eyes cut from the road to me with a brief shake of his head.

“Push higher,” I say. “The best we can do with his absurd security specifications is 450.”

Cillian clicks his tongue through the phone. “He feels entitled to a discount. For all the goodwill he’s shown our families in the last decade.”

Mary mutters a slew of curses under her breath at this. McGowan is practically geriatric, Irish, and has been nothing but a dissenting thorn in our family’s side since Willa and Sean got married. He thought it was unreasonable to expect that the good Irish folk of the city would just accept the Morellis with open arms and has made that abundantly clear over the years.

He’s rich as sin, and has old city connections that we don’t want to lose.

“That is the discount. Make him think he’s getting a good deal over my head.”

Mary huffs again, louder this time. “You want him to think you’re an idiot?” she whispers.

“McGowan is the idiot, Mary. It doesn’t matter what he thinks, he’ll be dead in ten years.”

“I’ll try,” Cillian says. I think that’s the end of the call, but he keeps going. “And what’s this I hear about a middle school teacher?”

“What did you hear?” I pinch the bridge of my nose.

“First, that you went on a date with him and nearly got shot?” His disbelief agitates me. God forbid a woman have a social life. And I didnotalmost get shot. “And then Artie said that he hasn’t come to your house in a week because his teacher is your new boyfriend, and he needs to settle in.”

Leo laughs, Mary grumbles that he’s not good enough to be my boyfriend, and I try not to think about all the ways I want to kill Willa.

“He’s under our protection,” I say.

“Christ, he’s actually staying with you?”

“Just for the summer.” Not that it’s any of Cillian’s business. “He’s harmless.”

“He’s an outsider,” Cillian is using the stern voice he takes with Artie and Angel when they’re being rowdy. “He should move states if he feels unsafe. Notstay in your house.”