Chapter 6 - The Penthouse Gathering
The Manhattan penthouse blazed with light against the midnight sky. Crystal chandeliers cast brilliant reflections across the polished white marble floors, and classical string music drifted softly from hidden speakers.
Around the long mahogany conference table sat the five remaining capos of the Moretti organization. At the head of the table sat Vittoria Rossi.
She wore a stunning crimson silk dress that clung to her silhouette, and on her right wrist, catching the light of the overhead chandelier, was a silver bracelet set with a tiny, brilliant blue star-shaped stone.
The heavy double doors of the penthouse study swung open with a slow, deliberate creak.
Conversation died instantly. The room plunged into a suffocating silence.
Alessandro walked in first, his tall, imposing figure framed by the doorway. His black tailored suit was immaculate, his expression completely unreadable.
I walked beside him, my hand resting lightly on his arm. My red heels clicked sharply against the marble floor—the exact same sound from the night at Il Cielo.
Vittoria’s face drained of color. Her hand froze halfway to her wine glass.
"Alessandro," she managed to say, her voice trembling slightly before she recovered her composure. "We... we didn't expect you to leave the estate. Given your fiancée's delicate health..."
"My health is remarkably robust, Vittoria," I said, stepping into the light.
Several capos shifted uncomfortably in their chairs. Salvatore, sitting near the end of the table, instinctively reached toward his jacket pocket.
May you like
Two of Alessandro’s armed guards stepped out from the shadows behind the pillars, their weapons drawn and leveled at Salvatore’s chest before his hand even touched the fabric.
"Don't," Alessandro said quietly.
