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“Um… yes?”
She reaches into her purse and hands me her card.
I glance down at to read:
Di Marco Law Group
Martina Mancini
Associate
When I glance down into her smiling blue eyes, she says, “I’ve always wanted my picture painted. If Roman’s working with you, then it means you’re the best.”
I suck in a sharp breath. This could be a great opportunity, but could I get away with charging her twenty-five grand?
“Thanks.” I return her smile. “I’ll be in touch when I finish Roman’s portrait.”
Without wanting to overstay my welcome, I slip the cards into the bodice of my gown and continue to the front of the crowd, where a waiter hands me a glass of champagne.
Roman is back in the microphone, outlining his plans for expanding his waste management and construction companies beyond New Alderney.I stand back and focus on the rest of his speech, not realizing that Roman’s empire encompassed so many legitimate businesses. From the way he talks, I would never even know he was a mafia don, but the number of armed men walking around his grounds suggests otherwise.
Not to mention what I saw happen on the steps of his mansion. There’s no doubt. Roman Montesano is a murderer. Though somehow, seeing him kill someone so deserving makes him less terrifying.
“My freedom era will bring about a lot of changes across New Alderney,” he says to a smattering of laughter.
“The first thing I plan to tackle is the corruption within the justice system that led to me being incarcerated for half a decade. How many innocent people sit in prisons for crimes they didn’t commit? How many have been executed protesting their innocence to their dying breaths? Now that I?—"
Gunshots ring through the air, each one hitting Roman’s chest with brutal precision. My blood turns to sludge, and my stomach drops to the ballroom floor like a dead weight. I suck in a breath, too shocked to scream.
Roman stumbles back and drops the microphone. Benito rushes to his side, while Cesare covers his brothers and points his gun into the crowd.
Chaos breaks out as everyone screams and runs in all directions, knocking over tables and chairs. Terror seizes my heart in a paralyzing grip, and I stand frozen in place.
How could this happen? How can someone as powerful and as protected as Roman get shot down in his own home? Which of his enemies would dare move against him? I look around for the shooter, but all I see is a blur of panicked faces.
Eyes swimming with tears, I glance toward where Roman lies unmoving on the stage. Any doubts I had about him evaporate, replaced with a sense of profound grief.
What if he’s dead?
The young waiter who handed me the champagne grabs my wrist. “What are you doing?” he hisses. “Run.”
As the ballroom fills with more gunshots, he tugs me toward an exit by the stage that goes unnoticed in the mad scramble to escape.
My heart thunders, pumping blood to my extremities. I run along his side, my heels clicking on the marble floor. We burst through the door and into a hallway that leads past a busy kitchen toward an exit.
“Are you alright?” the waiter yells over the sound of more gunfire.
“Y-Yes,” I stutter. “Who’s shooting?
“Don’t know, but my boss warned us that something like this might happen.”
My steps falter. “What?”
He turns to me and grimaces. “Three times out of ten, one of the mafia events he caters for ends in a shooting. I just never knew it would be so bad.”
Shit. Roman is lying on that stage, probably bleeding out. What if his brothers also got shot? Who’s going to call for an ambulance? I glance over my shoulder, my insides twisting with unease.
He pushes open the fire exit and pulls us out into a paved courtyard occupied by catering vehicles. Some of them are already reversing out of their parking spots and moving down the driveway toward the main gates. The door behind us closes with a thud, reminding me I just left Roman for dead.
