Chapter 13 - The uninvited guest
The dining hall of the Moretti estate was designed to intimidate. High vaulted ceilings, dark walnut paneling, and an immense crystal chandelier that cast a golden, fractured glow over a table long enough to seat twenty men. Tonight, however, only two places were set.
At the head of the table sat Vincent Moretti. To his right sat Salvatore "The Bishop" Rossi.
Rossi was a man in his late seventies, with silver hair combed neatly back, sunken cheekbones, and eyes as black and sharp as obsidian. Leaning against his chair was his signature walking stick—topped with a heavy, polished sterling silver skull.
"The vintage is exceptional, Vincent," Rossi said, dabbing his thin lips with a linen napkin after tasting the Barolo. "Your cellar has always been superior to mine. Just as your security has always been... legendary."
Vincent cut a slice of roasted veal without looking up. "My security does its job, Salvatore. Though occasionally, garbage washes up on my shore."
Rossi paused, a thin, paper-dry smile touching his lips. "Is that what happened this morning? A stray boat? The waterfront gossips talk too much. They say a ghost visited the Moretti compound."
"There are no ghosts in my compound," Vincent said evenly, setting his knife down with a soft click. "Only memories of men who thought they were smarter than they actually were."
Rossi chuckled softly, a sound like dry autumn leaves scraping across concrete. He leaned forward, resting both hands on the silver skull of his cane. "You cleaned house after the incident with your captain. The Commission respected your swiftness. But whispers remain, Vincent. Whispers that young Marco Delgado didn't take all his secrets to the grave."
"Marco was a driver," Vincent lied, his voice cool and steady as ice. "A loyal boy who drove into an ambush meant for me."
"Was he?" Rossi tilted his head. "Because before he drove for you, he was a ward of Don Valetti. And when Valetti fell, several million dollars in bearer bonds and a ledger detailing every bribe paid to federal judges in Cook County disappeared into the wind."
Rossi’s eyes narrowed into slits. "I understand Marco left behind a widow. And a little girl."
Vincent felt the muscles in his jaw tighten, but his expression remained a mask of polite indifference. "They are guests under my roof. Nothing more."
"A dangerous charity, Vincent," Rossi whispered. "Children have big ears. And sometimes, children find things they shouldn't."
At that exact moment, the service door behind the dining hall clicked.
Alina had been instructed to keep Mia upstairs in the private wing, but Mia had slipped past the nursery guard to search for her missing toy truck. The little girl wandered into the grand dining room, her soft socked feet making no sound on the Persian rug.
"Vincent?" Mia’s small voice echoed through the vast hall. "My truck is missing a wheel."
Rossi slowly turned his head toward the child. A predatory gleam sparked in the old man's eyes as he stared at the little girl.
"Well, well," Rossi purred, his voice dripping with venomous sweetness. "Is this the famous little girl who finds things beneath automobiles?"
Vincent didn't hesitate. He stood up with such sudden force that his heavy dining chair scraped violently against the floorboards. In two long strides, he was between Rossi and the child, his towering frame completely blocking Mia from the old man's view.
"Frank," Vincent commanded, his voice vibrating with suppressed fury.
Frank appeared from the shadows of the doorway instantly, picking Mia up into his arms and pulling her back into the corridor before she could say another word.
Vincent turned back to Rossi, leaning down until his face was inches from the elder’s withered ear. "If your eyes ever look in her direction again, Salvatore, you will leave this house in several different boxes. Am I clear?"
May you like
Rossi’s smile vanished. He slowly reached for his cane, using it to push himself up from the table. "You're getting emotional, Vincent. A boss who lets women and children cloud his judgment doesn't keep his crown for very long."
"We’ll see," Vincent replied coldly. "Get out of my house."
