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“Half the men in this room are his soldiers. Unless you have a death wish, let whatever this is go. Trust. Me.”
I don’t respond verbally, but my jaw clenches tightly as I sit back down and turn to glare death at Massimo.
“I’ll ask you again—isn’t that right, wife,” he says loud enough for the whole room to hear.
Eloise smiles a weak, sickly smile.
“Yes,” she mumbles awkwardly. “That’s right.”
Massimo chuckles, turning to grin wickedly at his guests.
“You heard it from the horse’s mouth. One night, anything goes. Now, shall we play?”
He cracks his knuckles and strolls back to his seat.
Motherfucker. Whatever he’s just threatened her with, it’s working. Because instead of screaming, or running away, or telling Massimo to go fuck himself and that there’s no way she’s participating in this sick game, Eloise is just standing there.
Slowly, my pulse thudding hotly, I swivel my eyes around the poker table. There’s me and then Carmine Barone, who seems to understand that there’s more than meets the eye between Eloise and me, but is for some reason not saying anything about it. Going around the table, there’s a man I think I know as Sammy “The Hatchet” DiFresno, Frankie Paciano, who runs one of the tribute families to the Barone empire, then the dealer, then Don Michael Genovisi, then a grim older guy all in black who I don’t recognize, Massimo himself, and lastly a guy who I believe is an underboss in the less powerful Abato family.
“Come on!” Massimo grins as he raps the poker table in front of him. “Let’s play!”
I clear my throat, turning to him. “Massimo, what is this?”
“This, counselor,” he shrugs, “is how I have fun. You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”
In fact, I have a giant fucking problem with that. But I’m also not suicidal, and falling on my sword right now wouldn’t help Eloise anyway.
There’s one way out of this: play, and win.
“This is how the big boys have fun, counselor,” Massimo chuckles.
Across from me, Don Genovisi suddenly turns to level a hard gaze at Eloise.
“Mrs. Carveli does not seem to be enthused with this game, Massimo,” he growls.
“I think I know my wife better than any other man here, Michael,” Massimo tosses back.
Don Genovisi shrugs and stands from the table. “Maybe so, but this isn’t a game for me.”
Massimo snorts. “What, because you’re married?”
“Because I’m not an animal,” he fires back coldly. He straightens his jacket. “Thank you for the party tonight, Massimo. I think it’s time I left.”
He nods to his number two, Vincent Cave, standing behind him. The two of them and the small contingent of Scaliami men peel away and make their way to the door. Michael begins to take a step toward Eloise with a concerned look on his face.
“Leave, or sit, Michael,” Massimo barks. “Do not presume to talk to my wife.”
Michael shoots Eloise one more long, worried look. Then he turns to leave with the rest of his men.
Massimo sighs. “Well, that cuts the pussy out. Are the rest of the men ready to play for keeps?”
Every other guy at the table smiles wolfishly and nods.
“How about you, Mr. Black,” Massimo grins, turning to level a piercing gaze at me. “I doubt this is how they play in law school. Think you can keep up?”
I have to play, and I have to win.
There’s no other option here.
