He goes on, "The fact is, I saw Clay exactly thirty-six times from the day he was born until he turned twenty-four. I loved another woman and the pain of seeing her with your father was more than I could bare to witness, so I spent every damn moment I could away from the District. Away from my family. I was a shitty, selfish father, and I did what I wanted. I boxed. I ran boxing gyms and the competitions for the Family all over the world. That is where I lived my life. I did it because I refused to see her in his arms. So, I don't need my failings forgiven or softened, Fawn. I need the right woman in my sons' lives moving forward because I neglected to give them the right one at the beginning. So are you prepared for the part you need to play?"
He doesn't love his wife; he lovedmy dad'swife… My heart pounds in my throat. "Is that why you hated him? Because you loved her?"
"I was right to… " His gaze loses focus as he stares at the glass of whiskey rocking back and forth in his fingers. Then he says, "Madeline and I had a son together, and…dammit… I knew if he thought the boy was his, he would love him, so I stepped aside. And I proved to be the worst kind of father as it stood, but he knew,somehow. Or someone told him. He tried to have the boy killed—my boy with his mother's green eyes.Konnor.Everything changed from there. The bad blood was rancid. There was no going back. Are you prepared for what that means for your father?"
I take another sip of my whiskey, using the delicious liquid to bide me some time while I contemplate.
My father tried to have a child killed simply because he was not his own blood.
Who does that?
A smile hits the corner of my lips at the memory of Clay swearing to care for my baby and me, asserting that the baby is his despite the blood father.
My heart steadies.
And I know I want to be therightwoman for him because he chose me when no one else did. I'll choose him now. I'll choose him forever. "What part do I need to play?"
"You're very young—"
"I'm not weak—"
"No." He nods slowly, his blue eyes panning my resolute face as though he can measure my strength like he's the authority on the subject. "No, you're not."
CHAPTERFOUR
clay
My younger brother,Xander, lands a hit on the side of Eddie's jaw—a heavy-weight champion twice his size—snapping his head to the side, splitting his lip open, and spraying the ringside table and the white dress shirts of theCosa Nostraassociates.
They revel in it. But I despise watching my youngest brother bouncing between those ropes, receiving and delivering the violence. It shouldn't be him. He wasn't meant to be part of this corruption.
He was meant to get out. Be better.
I bite down on the cigar in my mouth as the room booms and shakes with barks and calls, the youngest Butcher brother invoking chants from the crowd.
"The Butcher."
The origin of our last name. A name they used when my father lived in Sicily as Paul Lucchese before he moved to Australia and recreated himself as Luca ‘The Butcher’ Butcher. And now, his youngest and brightest breathes life back into that legendary boxing name.
"The Legend."The room echoes the term, provoking melancholy to settle inside me. I've watched my father fight on the television more often than I've had a meal with him. I've heard the chanting of "The Legend" more times than I've heard him greet me.
It's a pity my brother wants the same life instead of using his massive brain to finally take the bar. I never wanted this for my baby brother, the gentlest of us, even as he spills crimson fluid to their chanting.
Yet, as I gaze across the arena, landing on the Irish as they bet with counterfeits, and the tellers as they clean their money with the real prints from the public, a slow smile settles on my lips.
It's an idealistic setting.
A poetic one, even, when a Butcher spills a pint of fresh blood in this space while the workings of our corrupt empire play out seamlessly.
Boxing is a Butcher space.
We may have bought abattoirs under the ex-Don's—Jimmy Storm's—regime and used them to manage the Family's dealing and rid us of waste. We may run diamonds across the borders for the Family and control the fisheries and the meat industry, butboxing—I stare at my young brother once more.Boxing is a Butcher's world.
My world.
And this is my new order.
My father sits on the far side of the knotted blue ropes, his fists set in tight balls in front of him as he watches the match. His eyes cut lines around the ring, following the motion of Xan's jabs as though he holds a string to each thrust.