Page 37 of Fall Before Her Throne

“It is customary⁠—”

“No.”

The man’s eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “You will not be allowed inside⁠—”

“I said no.”

He opened his mouth to argue again, but just then a hard voice cut across the space.

“Ah, ah, ah.” A man walked through the empty dining room, coming from a door in the back—maybe to the kitchen. His immaculate dark blue suit fit every contour of his lean body. His grey hair swept away from his forehead, and his eyes were welcoming but hid a shrewdness beneath their surface. He was handsome for his age—probably early sixties—and carried his body with an authority that had his men shrinking back as soon as he stepped forward. Even the shiny gold rings on his fingers dripped with power and wealth. He was…overwhelming. I wanted to stare at him and flinch from him at the same time.

Piero Greco.

“You must be Signorina Vero.” He held out his hand. My men tensed behind me when I took it. Greco gave it a firm, polite shake before letting go, and Obi immediately wrapped a big hand around my hip to pull me into his side.

“Signore Greco,” I responded, trying to keep my voice careful.

“Obi, it has been a long time,” Greco said as he reached for another handshake. Obi did not grab it. “I am impressed by the work you’ve done in the Shadows since I last saw you.”

Obi inclined his head. “I’ve come a long way.”

Greco’s eyes narrowed slightly, but before he could say anything else, I jumped in.

“We’re here, as requested.”

His eyes floated over each of us before they paused on Max. At the back of our group, Max seemed like the odd man out, but the way Greco’s eyes flared predatory had my inner hackles rising in defense.

“I see we have an issue here,” Greco said as tilted his head slightly to look down at me. His tone was playful.

“Your men have asked us to give up our weapons. As I don’t trust you, I won’t.”

“Per favore,” he said, his accent present but not as thick as I would have expected. “It is customary in Italia for the leaders of our world to meet without weapons. It is the only way we can guarantee we all feel safe.”

I looked from him, around the room to his dozen men, then back to him. “I don’t feel safe.”

“You have my protection, I assure you,” he said, his voice taking on a warm tone. Was it warm or condescending? “We are all adults here, sì? We can speak privately without killing one another. It would be barbaric.”

I glanced around the empty restaurant. “How can I be sure your men don’t have weapons on them either? Or you?”

He undid the buttons on his suit and held open the jacket so we could see no evidence of holsters or hidden guns. He did a slow turn so we could see he had nothing tucked into the back of the waistband of his trousers either. “As you see, I am unarmed.”

He snapped his fingers, and his men did slow spins in the same fashion. Not one gun or knife in sight.

In sight, I whispered to myself.

“Allora,” he said. He pointed to the security box waiting on the host’s standing podium. “Those will be locked. I will give you the key. You can return to it after our business has concluded.” He gestured to other locked boxes sitting on the floor against the wall. “Rossi and Sandrini are already waiting inside. They have also surrendered their weapons.”

“Fine.”

Carefully, each of us disarmed. Guns, knives, Wynn’s knuckles, one by one we dropped our lifelines into the box. Once we were all done, we watched Ryu continue to pull his unlimited supply of knives from the countless sheaths strapped to his body. I was about to burst into laughing when he finally dropped the last one in.

“Is that all?” I teased, grinning.

He flicked my nose playfully, but his face was angry.

“Happy, Greco?”

The man nodded. He extended an arm toward the door he had entered from. “Please. Follow me.”