Chapter 8 - The Final Invoice
The aftermath of a warzone was remarkably quiet. Three hours later, the estate was swarming with flashing red and blue lights, but not from the police. Private ambulances and "fixers" employed by the Romano family were meticulously scrubbing the scene.
Teresa Romano had fled in the chaos, abandoning the Russo men to be slaughtered or captured by Gabriel’s arriving loyalists. Enzo Russo was dead, killed in a firefight in the ballroom. Bianca had been quietly escorted away to an undisclosed location; Gabriel had spared her life, but she would spend the rest of it in comfortable, isolated exile.
Natalie sat on the bumper of an ambulance near the shattered courtyard, a medic wrapping a bandage around a shallow cut on her arm. She watched as Gabriel’s men loaded bodies into unmarked vans. It was horrifyingly efficient.
Footsteps crunched on the gravel. Gabriel Romano approached her. He had changed into a fresh, crisp black suit, looking as though the horrific events of the night had been nothing more than a minor business inconvenience. Daniel stood a few paces behind him, a bandage plastered over his temple.
Gabriel stopped in front of Natalie, pulling a silver cigarette case from his pocket. He offered her one. She shook her head.
“The police will arrive eventually,” Gabriel said, lighting his cigarette. “When they do, they will find the scene of a tragic gas explosion in the catering kitchen. A terrible accident. No gunmen. No hostages. Just a wedding that ended prematurely.”
“A gas explosion,” Natalie repeated flatly. “Right. And the bullet holes in the ballroom?”
“Structural damage from the blast wave,” Gabriel replied smoothly. “The venue owners have already been compensated for the repairs. Generously.”
Natalie looked at him. “Why are you telling me this?”
Gabriel reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a thick, sealed white envelope. He held it out to her.
“Because you are remarkably good under pressure, Miss Shaw. You didn’t panic. You didn’t freeze. You saw a marked chair and deduced an entire assassination plot. And then you saved my life using a fire extinguisher and a tablet.”
Natalie hesitated, then took the envelope. It was heavy.
“Your final invoice has been paid in full,” Gabriel continued, his dark eyes locking onto hers. “With a gratuity that reflects the hazard of the evening. That money is clean. It will set you up for a very long, very comfortable life. You can open your own firm. Go to Paris. Disappear.”
Natalie looked down at the envelope. She didn’t need to open it to know there were millions inside.
“But,” Gabriel added, his voice dropping an octave, carrying the weight of a king giving a royal decree. “This also buys your silence. If anyone asks, you planned a beautiful wedding that was ruined by a tragic accident. You never saw me in the tunnels. You never heard my mother on the speakers.”
“I understand,” Natalie said quietly. She wasn't stupid. She knew this wasn't just a tip; it was a leash. But it was a leash she was willing to wear to walk away alive.
Gabriel nodded once, satisfied. He turned to walk away, Daniel falling into step beside him.
“Mr. Romano,” Natalie called out.
Gabriel paused, looking back over his shoulder.
“The centerpieces,” Natalie said, a faint, exhausted smile touching her lips. “Did you at least like the orchids?”
For the first time all night, a genuine, unforced smile broke across Gabriel Romano’s face.
May you like
“They were perfect, Natalie. I’ll be sure to hire you for my next wedding.”
He turned and walked into the shadows, leaving Natalie Shaw sitting in the wreckage of her masterpiece, holding a fortune in blood money, and wondering what the hell she was going to do next.
