Page 9

"I know. I paid for the wire and all the other items on the medical bills," I tell him.

"And the boy who did it walks."

"The boy who did it is at home in his father's house, drinking his father's whisky and probably telling people he escaped." I move the pen on my desk a half inch to the left, where it should be. "Or maybe not. But if that’s the case, how long do you think he'll enjoy that story once his sister is standing in a church wearing my name?"

"I don’t get why you’re marrying a Valmont."

"I'm marrying Henri Valmont's only daughter. Short engagement. Big church. Both families in one room in their best suits." I look up. "By tradition, the bride's father pays for half. I intend to make it a very expensive wedding, Rafe. I'm thinking of swans and acrobats in those tiny little shiny bikinis."

One of the captains, Jerry, snorts and turns it into a cough when I glance at him.

Rafe doesn't move. "The men want blood for Nicko."

"The men can have cake and some vodka instead."

"Laszlo."

"Ask them what they'd rather watch. A funeral nobody attends, or Henri Valmont standing up at a wedding, in front of everyone he has ever done business with, giving a speech about how happy he is?" I lean back. "One of those he'd get over."

There is an awkward silence after that and no one dares to say anything. I'm disappointed by the lack of comments. Then the youngest one decides this is his moment. Tomek has had a captain's seat for eight months and the suit for six, and he delivers his verdict around a mouthful of paluszki, a bag of which he has taken from my kitchen without asking, the way he empties every fridge he has ever stood near. He is getting salt on my floor. I let him live, for now, because I want to hear what a man eating my stolen breadsticks thinks I should do about the Valmonts.

"So while here they're busy with the wedding, we take the river warehouses."

"Tomek,” I say, trying to stay fucking calm if no one gets me.

"It's the perfect⁠—"

"Tomek." I don't raise my voice. There's no need to, not with him, not over this. "Say one more word about the Valmonts and I'll have to plan a funeral and a wedding in the same month. The flowers get confusing."

He shuts his mouth at last.

"Wonderful. Go and see Nicko. Tell him I sent grapes."

Rafe stops at the door. "His jaw is wired shut."

"I know. The card says "chew slowly."

They leave. Constantine stays.

He's in the chair by the window with his ankle on his knee, eating an apple he took out of my bowl, him also without asking, also predictably. He hasn't said a word all morning. From Constantine, that's screaming.

"Go on," I tell him.

"Nope."

"Say it."

"I've said it. I said it Thursday night. I said it in the car, I said it on the stairs, and I said it outside your bedroom door at one in the morning to a man who pretended to be asleep." He takes a bite. "Eleven minutes."

"What does that even mean?"

"That's how long it took you to get engaged to this woman. I was standing next to you with her brother's napkin gag still in my hand, inspired to keep time." He chews. "The docks were on that table. The river. Henri would have signed over half his shipping to get that idiot back in one piece. And you asked for a wife."

"Marriage is a merger."

"Don't insult me." He points the apple core at me. "I've been at your shoulder for twenty years. I've watched you make grown men thank you for taking their houses. You never ask for the thing you want, that's your whole religion. Thursday, you asked for it in the first sentence."

"You're upset because I didn't consult you."