Chapter 4 - THE VINTAGE ROLEX
The snap of the silver lighter echoed like a gunshot.
Immediately, five of Luca’s men drew their weapons, aiming directly at the man sitting at the end of the table. The metallic clicks of safeties being disengaged cut through the terrified gasps of the remaining guests.
The man didn't flinch. He didn't raise his hands. He took another slow drag of his cigarette, completely ignoring the barrels pointed at his chest.
“Put them down, boys,” the man said lazily, tapping his ashes onto a pristine white saucer. “If I wanted him dead, he’d already be bleeding into his risotto.”
“Who the hell are you?” Luca demanded, stepping in front of Vanessa to shield her, despite her betrayal.
I stared at the man. His face was harsh, unforgiving. But there was something deeply familiar about the way he moved. The arrogant tilt of his head. The way he held his cigarette between his thumb and index finger.
I had seen him before. Not at the mansion.
At my mother’s restaurant.
He was the man who came around every month to collect “insurance” from the small businesses on Halsted Street.
“His name is Dante,” I whispered, the words escaping my lips before I could stop them.
The man paused. He turned his head slowly, locking his cold eyes on me.
“Well, well,” Dante smirked, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “The little maid has a good memory. How’s your mother, Emma? Still struggling with that mortgage?”
My blood ran completely cold. He knew who I was.
Luca looked at me, then back at Dante. “You know my housekeeper?”
“I know everyone on the West Side, Luca,” Dante said, leaning back in the expensive dining chair. “But I didn't come here to talk about waitresses.”
Answer one. Dante wasn't an assassin. He was an extortionist. He used the catering company as a front to bypass Luca's heavy security and get a seat at the table.
But that opened two new questions. If he didn't come to kill Luca, what was he trying to take? And why had Vanessa lied about him being her cousin?
Dante looked down at Vanessa, who was sobbing uncontrollably on the floor behind Luca.
“Your lovely fiancée owed my employers three million dollars, Luca,” Dante said casually. “She’s got a terrible habit at the baccarat tables. She promised she could pay us back once she married you and got her hands on the Moretti estate accounts.”
The guests murmured in shock. Vanessa covered her ears, refusing to look up.
“But my bosses got impatient,” Dante continued. “So, Vanessa offered a down payment. Fifty grand from your account, and a guaranteed entry point into your home during the busiest night of the year.”
Luca’s jaw tightened. “You broke into my house to extort me for her debts?”
Dante laughed. A harsh, grating sound.
“I don't give a damn about her debts,” Dante sneered. “The three million is a drop in the bucket. I came here for what belongs to my family.”
Dante stood up.
The guns tracked his every movement, but he ignored them. He walked slowly around the edge of the long dining table, his leather shoes clicking against the marble.
He stopped directly behind Marco Santori.
Marco hadn't moved. He stood perfectly still, his eyes fixed on the far wall, his face an unreadable mask.
“Isn't that right, Marco?” Dante asked quietly.
The reversal shifted the entire dynamic of the room. Dante wasn't focused on Luca. He wasn't focused on Vanessa.
He was focused on the restaurant manager.
Marco slowly turned his head to look at Dante.
“I told you it wasn't here,” Marco said, his voice completely devoid of fear.
“And I told you I didn't believe you,” Dante replied.
Dante reached into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Luca’s men tensed, ready to fire.
But Dante didn't pull out a weapon.
He pulled out a heavy, gold object and tossed it onto the mahogany table.
It slid across the polished wood and stopped right in front of Luca.
I stared at it.
It was a vintage, solid-gold Rolex watch. The glass face was cracked, and the leather band was stained dark with dried blood.
Luca’s breath caught in his throat. He reached out with trembling fingers and picked up the watch. He turned it over.
Engraved on the back were three initials.
V.A.M.
Vincenzo Antonio Moretti.
Luca’s father.
“Where did you get this?” Luca whispered, the anger in his voice replaced by a sudden, devastating shock. His father had been murdered ten years ago. The killer was never found. The watch had been stolen from his body.
Dante smiled a terrifying, victorious smile.
“I got it from him,” Dante said, pointing directly at Marco.
The room erupted into chaos.
Marco closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
“It’s a lie!” Marco shouted over the noise, looking desperately at Luca. “He’s trying to tear us apart from the inside, Luca! He gave me that watch yesterday to buy my silence!”
“Silence about what?” Luca demanded, gripping the gold Rolex so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Before Marco could answer, the massive crystal chandeliers above the dining table violently flickered.
Once. Twice.
Then, the entire mansion plunged into absolute, pitch-black darkness.
Screams filled the room. The sound of chairs crashing to the floor. The heavy thud of bodies moving in the dark.
And then, the sharp, metallic clink of the silver lighter opening.
The small orange flame illuminated Dante’s face in the darkness.
May you like
He was standing right next to me.
And he was holding a gun to Marco’s head.
