Brutal Power: An Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Bianco Crime Family)
Chapter 27

Dirty Dan’s is a little corner bar across the street from a shoe store and next to an ice cream place. There are old beer advertisements in the windows from the ‘80s and gorgeous ancient neon signs for brands that don’t exist anymore. The inside’s similar with peeling tables, a chipped bar, and decorations that weren’t new when they were put up thirty years ago.

Instead of seedy, it’s ageless. There’s a lot of green glass and polished wood, and it smells like beer and whiskey. I love places like this, the old neighborhood saloon, the sort of place that has seen its fair share of fights and romances and will probably outlive everyone that ever visits. What it lacks in manners, it makes up for in charm.

Elena stands out in a place like this, but that’s what I love about her. Even dressed down in a ratty old track and field t-shirt from the ‘70s, tight against her shapely tits and tucked into her high-waisted jeans, she looks like a fucking movie star. She can’t help it—the girl oozes energy and charm.

“Let me ask you something,” I say after ordering her some wine and asking for whatever local lager they’ve got on tap. “How often do you come to a place like this?”

“I’m not just some privileged mafia princess, you know.” She grins at me though and crosses her legs. “I’ve been to plenty of bars in my day.”

“Yeah, okay, but how many times have you been to a place like this without a security detail?”

She punches my arm. “None. And you’re an asshole for asking.”

“That’s what I thought.”

She silences me with a look, but I can tell she’s being playful. We banter a little bit about our favorite dives, and I can tell her taste is definitely more modern than mine. I prefer places that’ve seen things, places with stains on the pool tables and broken mirrors in the bathrooms.

“Don’t look now, but I just spotted her.” Elena leans into me and kisses my cheek. “She’s sitting at the end of the bar. Don’t look!”

I crane my neck anyway and spot Maggie O’Malley parked in front of a light beer and chatting with an older gentleman I don’t recognize. She’s not dressed for a date, so I figure him for a regular she’s friendly with.

It took a little digging to replace out where Maggie was going to be this evening. She’s been avoiding her usual haunts, maybe because she got a little too predictable and needed to hide out, or maybe because she heard I was on the hunt. Either way, Elena managed to track her down.

“Should we just go up and start talking to her?” I start to push back from the bar, but Elena stops me.

“God, you’re such an uncivilized buffoon.” She rolls her eyes at me. “I’ll take care of it, okay? Come over when I wave for you.”

“I’m not uncivilized,” I grumble at her but she’s already walking away. I glare at my beer, not used to a person taking control of the situation like that, but Elena’s a force to be reckoned with. I couldn’t stop her even if I wanted to. She’s a damn hurricane, and I feel my life twisting around her, rotating with her in the very center of everything.

I watch as Elena pretends to spot Maggie and say hello. They have a short conversation and it looks friendly enough, though I can tell Maggie’s not extremely happy to be cornered by my wife. Somehow Elena manages to get her chatting though and even orders her another drink before gesturing for me to approach.

“I should’ve figured you’d show up sooner or later, Quinn,” Maggie says, but she sounds more amused than annoyed.

“I was just telling Maggie about our bet. Brody thinks he’s been to more dives than I have, and I’m pretty sure the guy doesn’t know anything about Chicago compared to me, so we’re hitting up a bunch of different spots to see who has a better feel for the city. This was his choice, and I admit it’s a good spot.”

I’m impressed by how fast she came up with that story. When Maggie looks at me, I tilt my head and shrug. “What can I say? This is my kind of place?”

“Mine too,” she admits, eyes narrowed. “You always struck me as a high-end kind of guy, Quinn. You and your whole lawyer family.”

“Not even a little bit. You think my dad won over all those union clients by taking them to the Four-fucking-Seasons?”

Maggie snorts and raises a glass. “Here’s to the real Chicago.”

We drink a toast and Elena immediately takes control of the conversation, relegating me to the position of grunts and nods, which is actually ideal. She tells stories about the various fancy parties she’s attended over the years with lots of emphasis on how absurd and out of touch they are.

“I know my family’s reputation, but we’re not all like that.” Elena beams and orders a Jack and Coke when the bartender comes over. “I mean, yeah, I can’t pretend like I wasn’t born with a silver spoon shoved down my throat, but that doesn’t define me.”

Maggie seems skeptical, and soon they’re lightly ribbing each other, and I’m left wondering when the hell we’re going to mention the Waterfront project.

In theory, that’s why we’re here. I have a million other outstanding problems to solve at the moment and a minor war to run. Instead, I’m at a dive bar—admittedly a dive bar I like—having a perfectly fine conversation about absolutely nothing. Maggie seems happy though, and Elena’s a beaming lightning bolt of charm, and it’s hard to be grumpy in her presence. But I manage.

When the turn comes, I don’t expect it. Honestly, I nearly miss the pivot, Elena manages it too fucking smoothly. It happens when Maggie starts complaining about some noisy neighbors.

“I keep calling the cops and they keep doing shit about it.” She’s on her third glass of wine. Not enough to be drunk, but enough to be loose. “And when I say these people are noisy, I mean they’re having techno raves like every single night until four in the morning. I’m running on zero sleep right now and basically drinking so I can pass out and stay passed out through all the commotion.”

“The cops really don’t do anything about it?” Elena asks, sounding outraged.

“They turn down the music for like an hour but then it’s back and it’s even worse than before. I’m seriously giving up and thinking about moving, but I love my place. I just hate my damn new neighbors.”

“Brody knows people on the force,” Elena says and leans against the bar, casually shaking her half-finished drink, the ice clinking. “We could probably help out.”

Maggie snorts. “Shit, it’s not that bad yet. I know what sort of hole I’d be digging myself if I let a guy like Brody Quinn do me a favor.” She glances back at me over her shoulder. “No offense, Quinn.”

“All he’d want is for you to take a second look at his Waterfront project. And before you get pissed, trust me, it’s a really good proposal. I know how these things go, there are always a million reasons why a project has to get shelved, but believe me, this can be a huge deal for the city. He’s got my brother’s full support.”

Maggie O’Malley, the hardest woman in local politics I’ve ever met, stares at Elena then she stares at me, and I know what she’s thinking. I’m the head of a moderately powerful crime family, and Elena’s the sister of the head of an extremely powerful crime family, and suddenly we’re shaking her down, or at least cutting a deal. A lesser person might be scared, but not Maggie. She looks annoyed.

“That’s a big ask just to take care of a noise complaint.”

And that’s the crack I’ve been waiting for. It’s the first time Maggie’s ever seemed like she might be amenable to cutting a deal, and it’s like sunshine breaking through a year-long cloud cover.

“Then the Bianco family will owe you another favor.” Elena leans closer and winks conspiratorially. “Blank check.”

“You good with committing your brother to doing something for me?” Maggie sounds dubious.

“Don’t you worry about that. We’re just asking you to take another look, okay? You’ll see that it’s a fantastic project.” Elena throws back her drink and sighs. “Anyway, it’s been great hanging out with you, Maggie. Want to come on the next leg of our bar crawl?”

“No, I think you two should have some alone time.” Maggie laughs like she doesn’t understand what just happened. “I guess I’ll talk to you again when my neighbors finally let me sleep.”

“Night-night then and sweet dreams.” Elena hugs Maggie, who looks flustered, then drags me out of there. I manage to put my glass down on an empty table before I’m manhandled by a little ball of energy into the cool Chicago night.

I stare at Elena as she spreads her hands wide and points her thumbs at herself. “Tell me I’m the best,” she says. “Say it, Brody.”

“What the fuck just happened in there?”

“I got Maggie O’Malley to cut a deal. Tell me I’m the best.” She comes closer, sauntering, swaggering, and she’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen in my life. “Tell me I’m the best, Brody Quinn.”

I grab her and pull her against me and bury my mouth on hers. I’m hungry for her lips, not just because she’s goddamn attractive, but because she’s clever and incredible, and I don’t know how I survived before her.

“You’re alright,” I say and she laughs, patting me on the chest.

“You’ll be screaming about how great I am later.” And with that, she pulls away, leaving me dumbstruck and grinning like a maniac. “Now take me to another dive. I was serious about the bar crawl.”

“You sure about that? I’d rather take you back home.”

She jabs a finger in my chest. “You have to work for that first.” Then she grins and jerks her head. “Come on, I know a spot nearby.”

And I follow her because I’m too swept up to do anything else.