Dominic let out a dry, clicking chuckle. He reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a silver cigar case, and tapped it against his thumb. “Lucia is an old woman who still thinks maritime law is practiced with ledger books and handshakes. She won’t make it past the preliminary motions tomorrow morning.”
He leaned down until his face was six inches from mine. I could smell the stale bourbon on his breath.
“You were a great man once, Vince,” he murmured. “A bull. But a bull with a broken spine is just meat for the butcher. You had your run. You built the docks. Now sign the paper, let Arya take you down to some sunny villa in Boca where you can sit in the sand, and let the men who can actually walk a dock run this city.”
“Get out of my house,” I said.
Dominic straightened his lapels. He looked over at Tessa, who remained motionless by the medicine cart, her eyes lowered to the floor.
“Pack his bags tonight, nurse,” Dominic said casually. “After the hearing tomorrow, he won’t be staying in this house anymore. We’re listing the estate on Monday.”
He tapped the legal folio against his thigh, turned on his heel, and walked out into the corridor.
