Chapter 2

The next morning, I walk past the back garden of the Velvet Room. There she is — Vivian Marsh, draped across a wicker chaise with three cocktail girls in silk robes around her, sipping mimosas at eleven in the morning.

She sees me. Her voice climbs three octaves on purpose.

"Ugh, you know Gar. He's just too good to me."

"I told him a girl like me has no business on Park Avenue. He wouldn't hear it. Said my daddy bled for this family — and he stayed up half the night filling out my paperwork himself."

One of the girls coos.

"You and the boss, Viv — it's like a movie."

Vivian giggles into her mimosa. Eyes flick at me over the rim.

"Stop. You'll embarrass Dr. Reed."

She lowers her voice. Just loud enough.

"You know how she is. South Boston girl. Bit of a temper on her."

I tighten my grip on my medical bag and walk straight past them.

I go to Linda's.

Linda Hayes is the closest thing this family has to a queen mother — Don Hayes' wife, the only woman in the inner circle who ever looked at me like a daughter instead of an outsider. She pulls me through the door before I've even knocked.

"Scarlett, honey. You and Garrett fighting again?"

I shake my head.

"Linda. I need to know about the Doctor seat."

She sighs.

"Oh, sweetheart. Garrett's gone and made a mess of this one."

"That seat was yours. Doc Warren went straight to the Don and said so himself."

"Then Garrett went around him. Put Vivian's name in over yours. Pulled every string his father left in this city."

She shakes her head.

"The Commission doesn't know what to do with him."

My stomach drops.

So he didn't just file her application. He fought for it. Against me.

I walk out of Linda's house and the sky over Long Island is dirty and gray. The wind off the Sound cuts straight through my coat.

Dylan jogs up the path from the carriage house. My baby brother. Twenty years old and built like a brick wall.

"Scar. You okay?"

I can't answer.

"It's that bitch, isn't it. Vivian." His face goes red. "I'm going down to the club."

"Dylan. Don't." I grab his sleeve. "It's the family. You don't —"

"You took a bullet for that man, Scar. A bullet. You almost died on a concrete floor in Little Italy."

"And now he's handing your seat to a lounge singer?"

"He's a piece of shit, Scar. He's an ungrateful piece of shit."

I clap a hand over his mouth.

"Stop."

That night in the parking garage is the one thing Garrett and I don't talk about. He hates it when I bring it up. He told me once a real man doesn't owe his life to anyone — and a real man's wife doesn't remind him she's the one he owes it to.

Dylan rips my hand off and storms down the gravel drive.

My heart kicks. I run after him.

By the time I get to the Velvet Room, it's too late.

Dylan is on his knees on the back patio. Two of Garrett's enforcers pinning his arms. His lip is split.

Vivian is crying — beautifully — clinging to Garrett's chest.

"Garrett, I swear — I just wanted to talk to her —"

"Her brother — he grabbed me — he grabbed me —"

Dylan thrashes.

"I didn't touch her!"

"She's lying!"

Garrett doesn't even look at him. Drives his boot into Dylan's ribs.

"You don't put hands on a woman under this roof. Ever."

I throw myself between them.

"Garrett — stop! He didn't do it!"

His eyes are ice.

"This is the brother you brought into my house? You keep defending him, I'll put you in the basement with him."

He turns his shoulder against me. Slides an arm around Vivian. Voice softer than he's ever used on me.

"It's okay, baby. I've got you."

Vivian buries her face in his shirt.

I stand in the wet grass and feel something behind my ribs go quiet. Like a light switching off.

They take Dylan to the basement. Lock him in.

Garrett tells the family the boy will take the fall publicly. A formal strike. By Christmas he's out of the organization. No protection. No name. No welcome anywhere in the five boroughs.

I go to his study that night to beg.

He's at his desk. Polishing his father's old service revolver. Doesn't look up.

"It's family law, Scarlett."

"He didn't do it."

"Vivian said he did. Two of the girls said the same. Whose word — yours or theirs?"

"Garrett. He's my brother."

He finally lifts his head. His eyes are full of disgust.

"I told you to keep him in line."

"Now there's a mess. And you want me to bend the rules for your feelings?"

He shakes his head.

"You disappoint me, Scar."

He snaps the cylinder shut. Lays the revolver in its case.

"The seat's decided. Vivian. The Commission announces Monday."

A pause.

"I'll keep your brother out of the books. No paper. No whispers. But the basement stays. The strike stays. That's the most I'm giving you."

Like he's tossing me a coin.

I walk out of his study.

The whole world goes black.