“Tonight is about more than my birthday,” I continue. “It’s about celebrating the legacy that my Nonno started over half a century ago. Nonno laid the foundation with his bare hands and blood. Then my father expanded the vision with loyalty and grit.”
I pause, letting the words sink in. “Then when he was taken from us too soon, I picked up the crown and continued this business through sacrifice and strategy. When I started out I was twenty-one, alone, and underestimated. But I made a vow that the Capuano name would never fade. All of you in this room have played a part in making our name both feared and respected. Together we have built an empire where no one will ever question our reign. Thank you for believing in me and trusting me. Grazie mille.”
A few people clap and others raise their glasses.
I smile and lift mine higher. “To family, loyalty, and power!”
Taking a sip, I place the glass down on the table.
Grabbing the silver server, I make a huge slice in the bottom tier. After putting my piece on a plate, the servers roll the cake into the kitchen to cut it into pieces for the guests.
I lift a forkful to my lips. I know Nonna would not approve of how big my slice is, but oh well, I don’t work out for nothing. The red velvet dances on my tongue. Delicious.
Just as I swallow and go in for another bite, all hell breaks loose.
A heavy, invisible fist slams into my side.
There is no bang.
No warning.
Just an invasive, hot force slicing me open.
I jerk forward, my grip on the porcelain snaps.
The plate clatters to the table, and the piece of cake slides off, staining the lace. The fork falls to the floor, bouncing once, twice, before lying still.
I don’t gasp.
A Boss doesn’t create a spectacle.
My hands fly to my side. The agony sweeps through me as the realization dawns on me that I’ve been shot.
Silencer…well played.
Glancing down at my hands, I gasp as my fingers are covered in blood.
My blood.
Music swells into a lively Italian folk song. People dance and laugh, oblivious to the fact that I’m bleeding.
The black velvet is a blessing. It drinks the blood greedily, hiding the evidence of my fading life in the form of a stain.
I feel the dress growing heavy, the fabric is warm as it clings to my skin.
My knees turn to water.
Gritting my teeth, I white-knuckle the edge of the table, pivoting my body to shield wetness blooming through my dress.
Stay upright,I command myself.Don’t let them see you bleed.
My vision flickers as I search the sea of suits and gowns for Bruno.
How can I get anyone’s attention without creating a scene?
“I’m so happy you cut the cake. Now I can finally get a piece.” Gigi is by my side.
“Get Bruno,” I hiss.
