“Sergio Bruno is dead,” Juliana announces, without preamble.
Gasps go around the room. Dante and I exchange a look. I think the only thing either of us is shocked about is the fact that it took this long to happen.
“When? And how?” I ask. “The last I heard, he hadn’t left his house in months. I guess it wasn’t enough to keep him safe.”
“A member of his staff found him in the bathtub this morning. Drowned. The police are calling it an accident,” she says. “Funny enough, they found a teddy bear and a toy boat in the tub with him. Odd, isn’t it?”
The symbolism of the boat and the teddy bear does not escape Marco, Dante, or myself. Or anyone else in the room. Accident, my ass. This was an honor killing. An execution. Punishment for Sergio’s trespasses against the woman he killed and the child he kidnapped.
“Was it the Russians or the Italians?” Dante asks. “Or is that to be determined?”
“Italians. It was another Bruno,” Juliana says. “Those are the only people Sergio has been allowing onto the property. It was done by one of his own.”
“I can believe it,” Karina says quietly. “My uncle didn’t exactly inspire loyalty.”
“Oh! Speaking of loyalty…” Juliana says. “Be right back.”
We can all hear her footsteps echoing down the hall, and she returns moments later with a bottle of vodka in her hands. The label is red and black. It reads Maximum Vodka.
“Za zdorovy!”she announces, passing it to Dante. “Cheers.”
“What is this for?” he asks.
“Just a little gift from Maxim Orloff. He’s gone into the beverage business as well. Apparently he’s having a lot of fun with it.”
“Is it poisoned?” Frankie asks suspiciously.
Juliana laughs. “Of course not. He sent it to me as a thank you. I thought we could all share it. Maybe have a round of martinis after dinner.”
“Wait. A thank you for what?” I ask, alarm bells going off in my head.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Juliana says. “I fixed his little green card problem. I felt like I needed to ensure he remains an ally to us. You know how it is with international relations.”
Green card problem? Is her wedding to Orloff back on?
Candi glances at me nervously. She must be thinking the same thing.
“And how did you do that?” I ask, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“I found him a new fiancée! Through a matchmaking agency run by an old friend of mine. There’s actually quite a market for powerful men looking for specific types of wives. You’d be surprised.”
“I’ve never heard of it,” I say. Something about the whole thing feels off to me.
“That’s because it’sveryexclusive,” Juliana says. “Which is how I was able to find the perfect match. The family Orloff will be marrying into has all the wealth, stature, and respectable business ties a Russian mobster could ever dream of—she’s a Vanderchild, of the banking Vanderchilds. Orloff is very pleased with the arrangement. I wish I could say more, but I signed an NDA. So. Shall we raise a toast to our continued successes, in love and war?”
With that, Juliana steals my wine again and sits in her chair, holding up her glass.
For a moment, we all just sit there in stunned silence.
And then everyone starts talking all at once, laughing and chattering, raising glasses of water and wine and cranberry juice (that would be my very pregnant wife, of course).
Candi’s mom and Mrs. Abbott come back into the room with the kids then, someone turns on a Christmas music radio station, and suddenly we’re all joining hands around the table.
“Who’ll say grace?” Mrs. Abbott asks.
“I will,” I say, surprising everybody.
Heads bow, and I begin.
