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I come to a stop at the bottom of the staircase, my pulse quick as it thumps in my ears. Massimo turns and nods at the dealer, who starts to shuffle the cards.
“And now we can start playing.”
“Finally!” Carmine Barone, who’s also sitting at the poker table, crows.
“Patience, my friend,” Massimo grins. He clears his throat and takes a sip of his drink, drumming his fingers on the felt table next to his cards. “This will be one hand, winner take all. But,” he adds sharply when some of the players start to look confused, “this particular hand will be worth it, I can assure you.”
“Oh yeah?” Carmine chuckles as Alistair’s brow furrows, his eyes darting to mine. “Why’s that?”
“Because I’m going to sweeten the pot,” Massimo murmurs in strange, slightly edged voice that scares me.
Don Genovisi, also at the table, chuckles. “I have it on good authority that you just picked up a vintage Aston Martin, Massimo.” He smirks. “You sweetening the pot with the keys and title to that?”
There’s a round of chuckles and laughter from the other players and surrounding crowd.
Massimo just smiles chillingly.
“Oh, I can do better than a car, Michael.”
I stiffen, a cold premonition washing over me as his eyes swivel to lock onto me.
“The winner of this hand gets my wife.”
21
ALISTAIR
The whole party instantly falls silent. Then come the nervous titters and half-smiles, as if everyone is trying to figure out if Massimo is joking or not.
I know by the cruel way he’s smiling at Eloise that he’s not.
At. All.
My eyes snap to her. She also understands, probably better than anyone here, just how serious Massimo is. And I don’t get the sense that allowing some other man to “win” his wife is any sort of kink of his.
This isn’t about him at all. It’s about hurting Eloise. Because he’s a bastard.
My hands close to two white-knuckled fists on the green felt table in front of me. Across from me, Don Genovisi glances curiously at our host.
“What’s this about, Massimo?”
Massimo grins savagely as he spreads his arms. “I know some of you have doubted my abilities to lead as my father did. Let this convince you that I am twice the leader he was. Let this show that I am perfectly happy to do anything at all for those who call themselves my friends and allies.”
He turns to level a withering gaze at Eloise, who’s gone white and is utterly silent.
“Anything,” Massimo growls. “And let me assure you, I’m quite serious: the man who wins this hand gets a night with my dear wife. And nothing is off the table.”
I can see protests already forming on the lips of some of the players at the table. These might be hardened men who live lives of crime. But everyone has limits, and this is clearly beyond the pale for most of them.
“Isn’t that right, dear?” Massimo smiles as he stands, knocks back the rest of his drink, and walks around the table to Eloise. Ice-cold lethality burns in my veins as he yanks her to him and dips his mouth to her ear.
Instantly, her eyes bulge. Whatever color was left in her face drains away as she trembles.
I’m going to fucking kill him.
I’m beginning to stand before I even realize it. Suddenly, there’s a hand on my arm. I glance to my left, to where Carmine Barone is sitting next to me. He doesn’t say anything, but he gives me a knowing look as he shakes his head almost imperceptibly.
He turns to his right, as if looking for something in his jacket pocket draped over the back of his chair. He uses the motion to lean into me slightly and whisper.
