Little White Lies (editing)

Merchants Row

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February 7th, 1945

Boston, Massachusetts

"Bullsh*t I'm not f*cking Italian. Just because I run a mob doesn't mean I'm Italian. That's just disrespectful to my Irish father." Vincent mumbled looking at the article on him. They were so inaccurate.

He didn't even look Italian! He was lacking the dark eyes hair and darker skin color. He was as Irish as they come in looks due to his parents. He ignored the article and when back to doing the tasks ahead of him.

"Mr. Madden your dinner is ready." Danica Baker, Charlie's sister spoke. She sashayed into his study with every ounce of sexy she could.

"Danica... when have I ever let an outsider into my study?" Vincent asked with out looking up from his work. He could hear her shift back and forth nervously.

"I don't know sir." She played with her long chocolate brown hair. "Exactly, now please step out." Vincent ordered. He heard her feet pad away and groaned in annoyance.

Charlie's 29 year old sister was a piece of work. He allowed her to work as a maid in his home because he got lazy and had no inspiration to be anywhere except his bed and his study after I-... she left.

Vincent never let it go. He never let her go in his mind or heart. It's been three years and he still can't move on. James tried and he believed Danica was Charlie's way of trying.

"Vince I respect you and Iris was a ... kind woman but think about it. You're more respected than the president. What would it look like if you had a black woman at your side with a kid that clearly isn't yours?" Was Charlie's input.

Vincent didn't like that. And he really didn't like when his friend thrusted Danica into his life claiming she needed work and a place to stay because her boyfriend hit her. Of course Vincent now had a soft spot for abused women so he let her.

She has tried to break his celibacy many many times. She was truly gorgeous and tempting to any other man. If Vincent wasn't struck he would have taken the first opportunity to f*ck her when she waited in nothing but a towel in his room.

Yet he didn't. He sent her out because that wasn't what he wanted. She wasn't Her.

Vincent remembered the tensions that occurred after Iris's departure.

It was a year and a half since Vincent saw her and Jolene walk out of his life. He was drunk as ever in one of his high end clubs as the women who were there climbed on him and kissed on him. Vincent didn't pay any attention to them as they did their best attempt to seduce him.

It would never work of course but it was entertaining to watch them try. Suddenly the black woman who was... "friends" with Iris appeared in his line of vision.

"Mr. Madden?" She perked up. "Woman who's name I don't know." He acknowledged half-a**ed.

"Annabelle." She stepped closer. Vincent raised a brow. He really couldn't care less about her name. Iris didn't like her and neither did he.

"All by yourself tonight?" She asked carefully. "As always." Vincent answered with a yawn already bored of her presence.

"Oh no baby what happened to Iris?" She cooed rubbing his shoulders. Vincent flinched hating her touch. "She was too good for me." Was his reply.