Unlike other families, the women had been strictly forbidden from doing anything illegal. No drugs, no shady dealings. They weren’t even allowed to smoke pot. It might be sexist, but it was true. Women talked easier. They betrayed easier. They had a lower threshold for pain, and most of them couldn’t be trusted to keep the code of silence. It was work for the men and only the men.

“Nobody is hurting the girl,” Papi said. “I’m still boss of this family. If anyone lays a finger on her, they’ll be dealing with me. Leo loves this girl. They’re getting married. So what if she knows we’re mafia? If you think your women don’t suspect this family is mixed up in crime or that most of us have killed someone at one point or another, you’ve all got your heads up your collective asses. You know they know, or at least suspect to the point that actually knowing would make little difference. But they’ve got plausible deniability. That’s what’s important. And we keep it that way. Understand?”

Leo let out a breath at Papi’s pronouncement of protection over Faith.

“Fine,” Uncle Sal said.

“Whatever,” Angelo said. As if Angelo had intended to kill her. He had to keep up appearances. If Uncle Sal caught wind of how Faith had come to be here, it would be his head on a pike.

Everyone else nodded.

The mood in the room lightened and Davide said, “Hey, I was in Greenwich Village the other day and I saw a T-shirt that said New York City, Family owned and operated since 1920.”

Several of the guys chuckled; even Papi cracked a grin at that. Despite his grandfather’s talk and hopes, Leo knew the family wouldn’t ever go honest, but he also knew the old man was proud of the way Leo had made his money. Carmine lifted a glass to his grandson and Leo nodded in return.

* * *

Faith had been lying in bed tossing and turning for close to an hour when there was a knock on the door.

“Leo?” she said as she approached the door, wrapping a robe around her. She was a split second from opening it when she heard a drunk voice on the other end.

“You stupid cunt,” Angelo slurred from the other side. “I ought to kill you. Do you know the trouble you’ve caused for this family? You aren’t doing your job. Why aren’t you doing what all good sluts do? My brother owns you, bitch. He owns you. You owe him gratitude and blow jobs and anal and whatever fucked-up shit he’s into for stepping in to save you.”

Faith backed away, stumbling over the foot of the bed in her attempt to get to the intercom.

A groggy Demetri answered when she pressed the button. “Yes, Miss Jacobson?”

“Angelo is outside my door, drunk,” she whispered.

Demetri became alert, and the touch of annoyance evaporated from his voice. “It’ll be taken care of.”