The Price of Protection

Chapter 22~ I'm Sorry (Part 2)

MARIUS:

I am not happy having to be gone overnight for this meeting with the Genovese but I know it needs to happen. My mind knows, yet it won't stop wandering to Celine. She just arrived yesterday and I don't think it's a good idea for me to be away much until I know that she is doing better physically and mentally. She is so fragile right now and it shakes me to my core. I should never have involved her in the first place. There was a plan and I deviated... I did. She isn't wrong that everything happening to her is my fault. I can't tell if the overwhelming feeling in my lower gut is guilt or anger over it all.

How could I walk away from her? From that first moment of introduction when we had exited the bus. Her best attempt at French was okay at best, but she kept getting better. Every time I talked with her, she had learned new phrases or words and had improved her pronunciation. At first, I thought it was for French class, but after talking with Remi and Quinn, or eavesdropping on them, I know that it was more than that. She wanted to be able to converse with me fluently. My eyes reveal the slightest hint of joy as I try to keep a composed face.

I had Andre set up this meeting immediately after making my decision to take over early. I need to show them who I really am after that disaster of a last meeting where my uncle dominated the conversation.

We are currently having drinks at the hotel bar and I have a moment to myself as Mickey stepped away to take a call and the huskier Muscarella went to the men's room. I relax into a lazy slouch in my seat. The bougie bar has sets of leather armchairs all over with low glass tables in the center of each set. The low red lights casting a devious glow on the patrons, only made eyesore by the amount of mirror-like glass in the large room. We chose a set of chairs back in the corner to avoid unwanted attention, and it seems to be doing the trick. Andre did notify me that there are a couple of local reporters in the bar for the night so we should keep a low profile as much as possible. What he really means is 'don't start a fight'. I told him that I can't make any promises.

My arm lazily holding my drink lifts up in front of my face and swirls the amber-colored drink absentmindedly. I see Mickey heading back in my direction at the same time that Earnest leaves the restroom. Upon reaching our corner, Mickey leans, tilting his head upwards to whisper something to his giant of a partner about the phone call before they both have a seat and their weighty stares rest on me. Scrutinizing the young man in front of them once again.

Is he fit to lead, fit to ally with? Is he bold enough to run the Gray empire? Can he be trusted if he would kick his own uncle off the throne early?
I'm sure these are the questions they are asking.

I keep a slight humored smirk on my face and raise a brow of challenge as I meet one gaze and then the other. My head tilts moving back and forth between gazes slowly as if offering up my own scrutiny of them. It's Muscarella who breaks with a gruff scoff first, "I am surprised," his gruff voice cuts the silence, "You don't seem like the same boy we met a few short months ago."

"Same man," I emphasize, "different priorities," I respond simply and he sniffs.

"And how does it benefit us, offering you the information you want?"

"Besides the fact that I will be freeing you of working with my snake of an uncle?" A jest.

Mickey releases a single amused chuckle and continues to stare as he leans forward, but I refuse to be intimidated. Setting my drink down, I lean forward as well with my elbows resting across my knees. "For information, I pay handsomely. For a supported...acquiring of certain things...I would owe you one. An ally across the seas. Is the word of the Gray family not enough?" I probably shouldn't challenge them so, but sometimes you have to take big risks for big results.