Chapter 2 - A Wedding Toast Full of Venom|
The reception occupied the ballroom of the Moretti estate, where crystal chandeliers hung above polished marble and a string quartet played music too delicate for the men carrying concealed guns beneath their jackets.
Tomasso sat at the head table beside his new wife.
Caterina had not lifted her veil.
She had not touched her food.
She had not accepted a glass of champagne, even when a waiter placed one directly beside her hand.
Across the ballroom, Lorenzo Moretti watched them with the satisfaction of a man who believed he had finally moved the last troublesome piece into position.
He was sixty-two, silver-haired, and elegantly dressed. His smile never reached his eyes.
Tomasso recognized the expression. It was the same one his father had worn before ordering someone else's execution.
"Your uncle seems pleased," Tomasso remarked.
Caterina turned her covered face toward Lorenzo.
"My uncle is pleased whenever he believes someone else has lost."
"And has he?"
"Ask him after midnight."
Tomasso studied her.
"You enjoy speaking in riddles."
"I enjoy speaking to men who mistake silence for stupidity."
Before he could respond, Lorenzo rose and tapped a spoon against his champagne glass.
The room quieted.
"My friends," he announced, "tonight we celebrate the end of a terrible conflict. Two families that have suffered too much will finally move forward together."
Polite applause filled the room.
Lorenzo continued, praising Tomasso's strength, Caterina's loyalty, and the importance of sacrifice.
Then he lifted his glass.
"To my niece. May she serve her husband as faithfully as she has served this family."
A few guests laughed.
Caterina's gloved hand went still.
Tomasso saw it.
He also noticed the way Lorenzo watched her, as though waiting for her to bow her head.
Instead, she raised her champagne glass.
"To my uncle," she said. "May he live long enough to witness everything he deserves."
The laughter stopped.
Lorenzo's smile tightened.
Tomasso lifted his own glass to conceal the faintest flicker of amusement.
That was when Dante approached the head table with two other men.
He had been drinking, and alcohol had made him careless.
"Forgive me, cousin," he said loudly. "I simply have to ask. When do we get to see the bride?"
A few guests shifted uncomfortably.
Dante leaned toward Caterina.
"Or is that part of the marriage contract? The groom gets the veil, and the rest of us get to imagine the nightmare?"
Tomasso rose so quickly his chair scraped the floor.
"Dante."
His cousin raised both hands.
"I'm joking."
"Then find someone who enjoys your jokes."
Dante glanced around the table, searching for support.
He found none.
He bent toward Caterina anyway.
"At least tell us one thing, cousin-in-law. Is it true you scream when you see your own reflection?"
Caterina set down her glass.
The sound was barely audible.
Yet Tomasso saw something change in the stillness beneath her veil. The trembling had disappeared. Her shoulders settled, and her hands rested calmly in her lap.
"Your mother still keeps the blue room locked, doesn't she, Dante?"
His smile vanished.
Tomasso's gaze moved between them.
"What blue room?"
"Nothing," Dante snapped.
Caterina continued in the same quiet voice.
"Ask him what happened to the housekeeper who worked there. Ask him why your cousin has spent seven years paying a former police detective to find her."
Dante went white.
"Shut your mouth."
"Or what?" Caterina asked. "Will you tell everyone what you did? Or will you explain why you were in the Moretti compound the night my father died?"
The quartet missed a note.
Across the ballroom, Lorenzo lowered his glass.
For one long moment, no one moved.
Then Caterina turned toward Tomasso.
"Your cousin should leave."
Tomasso looked at Dante.
"Get out."
"Tomasso, she's lying."
"That wasn't a question."
Two security men escorted Dante toward the doors.
As they passed Lorenzo, the older man said something too softly for the guests to hear. Dante stopped resisting.
Tomasso noticed.
So did Caterina.
She leaned toward her husband.
"Your cousin is not your greatest problem."
"Then who is?"
She turned her veiled face toward Lorenzo.
"The man who paid for this wedding."
A waiter approached to clear the glasses.
As he reached for Caterina's plate, she slipped a folded piece of paper beneath Tomasso's hand.
He waited until the waiter left before opening it.
Five names were written in precise black ink.
The first belonged to a judge.
The second belonged to a police commander.
The third belonged to a shipping executive.
The fourth belonged to Dante.
The fifth was Tomasso's own.
Beneath the names, Caterina had written a single sentence.
One of these men ordered your father's death. The others made sure you blamed the wrong family.
Tomasso looked up.
His bride had already returned to her motionless silence.
Across the room, Lorenzo Moretti raised his glass again.
May you like
This time, Tomasso did not drink.
He began counting the exits.
