Page 71 of Crimson Fate

Marco’s voice disrupts my panicked thoughts. “She’s probably caught in traffic. You know how the city gets around this time.”

I stop mid-stride, turning to face him with a sharp glare. The clock on the wall ticks away, each second stretching longer than the last. “Traffic?” I scoff, struggling to keep my voice level. “She wouldn’t let something like traffic make her late. Not tonight.”

Marco leans against the doorframe, his casual stance at odds with the seriousness of the situation. “I don’t know. Maybe she had a last-minute emergency. It happens. She works at that nursing home, right?” His tone is calm, meant to soothe, but it grates on my frayed nerves.

Eva’s absence isn’t just inconvenient—it’s alarming. She’s the one person who can keep me calm in all of this. If I let Anthony get under my skin, this could end poorly. Eva is that grounding force I need.

“Vincent,” Marco says, catching my gaze. “Maybe it’s for the best that Eva isn’t here.”

I turn toward him. My eyes narrow and my temper flaring, I ask, “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Think about it.” He tilts his head slightly, an unspoken argument hanging between us. “If she walked in right now, how would you react? Could you hide what she means to you from everyone in this room?” His words are like ice water down my spine. “Gia is already watching you like a hawk, waiting for any sign that her affections are misplaced. And let’s not forget why the captains are really here tonight.”

Marco isn’t wrong. If Eva walked in now, it would probably be impossible to cloak my emotions and keep the guise of calculated indifference. It could unravel everything.

“You’re not wrong,” I concede, though the word tastes like ash in my mouth.

As much as I understand Marco’s warning, I must hear her voice. I need to be sure that nothing has happened to Eva. My hand reaches for my phone before I can second-guess myself, thumb hovering over her contact. With a deep breath, I tap the screen, listening to the trills of the ring before her voicemail kicks in.

“Hey, it’s me.” I school my voice into calm detachment, hiding the undercurrents of concern. “You’re not here. I just wanted to make sure everything’s alright. Call me when you can.” I hang up without another word, dropping the phone back into my pocket like a stone.

“Boss,” Marco says, his low voice insistent enough to draw my attention from the phantom vibrations I hope signal a return call from Eva. “The last of the guests have arrived.”

“Thank you.” I straighten my tie, an armor adjustment, before entering the fray. “It’s showtime.”

As I step out of my sanctuary and into the lion’s den, it’s time to put on the performance of a lifetime even though Eva will not be at my side. I glance across the room, the heavy dining table set with precision, each nameplate thoughtfully placed.

The low hum of conversation greets me. As I make my way around the room to each captain, I am greeted with a handshake, followed by an embrace and kiss on the cheek. Each nod I offer feels mechanical, but I wear my mask well. Determined that no one will see the turmoil beneath.

“Vincent,” Anthony calls out, waving me over with a too-eager smile plastered on his face.

“Anthony,” I acknowledge with a nod, careful to keep my expression neutral. But inside, a storm rages.

I take my place at the head of the table and peer around at each person looking back at me. The six capos—Anthony, Georgie, Bruce, Michael, Frank, and Bobby—look quietly at me now. Gia stands silently behind the seat to my left, and Marco the seat to my right.

I smile at Gia and lean over, kissing her cheek gently before whispering in her ear that she looks beautiful. She nods at me and offers a slight smile. I can tell by how all the captains are eyeing her except for Anthony that they are curious about why she is here this evening.

Smitty is at the far end of the table, his usual stoicism in place as he observes the room. I am equally as sure the captains also have questions about his presence.

“Marco,” I whisper, my voice carrying the weight of a command despite its low timbre. “Tell the kitchen to start with the salads and bread.” I keep my tone even and deliberate.

“Got it, boss.” Marco nods once, a silent understanding passing between us.

I clear my throat before I begin, ensuring my voice is loud, clear, and strong. “Evening, gentlemen and Gia.” I greet them, giving an acknowledging tilt of the head to the room.

“Vincent,” they respond in various tones of deference and anticipation. They know tonight is significant, though none can guess the reasons.

“Please, have a seat.” I gesture to the table. The room waits for me to sit first as the kitchen staff files in. Food is placed on the table, and glasses of water and wine are poured.

“Let’s enjoy our meal, shall we?” I state, directing their attention to the first course of the feast before us. The crisp, fresh scent of salad greens and the comforting aroma of garlic-infused breadsticks fill the room.

“Indeed,” Anthony pipes in, his voice smooth as silk, too smooth. “To good food and better company.”

“Salute,” the others echo, glasses raised.

I stiffen involuntarily in response to Anthony’s toast. Knowing what a snake he is, it takes all of my fortitude not to draw my gun and end all of this here and now.

As the men delve into small talk and savor the starters, I bide my time, knowing the actual game will begin when the lasagna is served.

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