“Dinner’s about to be served. Do not keep me waiting!” My father’s death tone resonates, and I put my finger up to ask for one more minute. He grants it graciously and goes back to where we will be eating.
Turning my attention back to Max, I watch him look even more nervous than before my father had spoken up. “Well?” I ask after taking note of Max’s jumpy behavior. “It’ll calm you. Trust me. I’m the nice one of the family.”
“No, you’re a killer,” he counters.
“Touché,” I joke and smile before continuing, “But only to those who have done wrong to my father. Have you disrespected him?”
I know he has – it was in the brief – but he shakes his head at me and looks so young and misguided by trying to make it to the league of bad guys.
“Then,” I start, popping the lid and pouring the rest of the tiny bottle’s contents into his drink, “Drink up and lets go eat.”
He does so, and I watch as he gulps down an entire flute of champagne. We head toward the dining room, and I place my hand on his back to guide him. Once done, I take his champagne glass from him and place them both on the tray held by the waiter waiting at the entryway.
I push Max in the direction of his seat and go to take my own next to Manuel and our family friend, Nicolas Carlisle. We all sit, champagne already served and I pick mine up as I wait for our father to start speaking.
Standing, my father grabs his glass and holds it up to start his speech. “I’d like to thank you all for coming together to celebrate my forty-fifth anniversary since being left in charge of the Abbiati family business.” He wears a massive smile on his face, acting charismatic and friendly. “It’s amazing how we’ve evolved over the years, and I’m pleased to welcome new faces to the ranking.”
Everyone looks amongst themselves, pleased at how they’re still able to sit here and be a part of it all.
"Now, however, before we carry on and even eat, I’d like to deal with another matter,” he says and claps his hands together. “You've all met my beautiful daughter.” My father targets me, and everyone's eyes fall upon me. I allow my lips to curl up into a polite smile. "She knew one secret before coming to this table, no one but myself and my sons, Enzo and Giovanni, knew. If I'm correct, she's done well to keep said secret even while being able to welcome you all to our humble abode." He then turns his head to face Max, and his happiness dwindles into mock concern. “Max, how are you feeling?” my father asks politely, just as the man in question begins to pull at his collar as his blood begins to boil.
And just like I was told – and as if on cue – he erupts into a profuse sweat. Droplets of water draw across his forehead before they multiple like organisms on a Petri dish. I watch as he pulls at his collar, loosening his tie to get air. His face slowly reddens, his breaths catching one by one in his throat as his throat begins to close in on him. His wide eyes, the ones that scream with panic, begin to bleed. Crimson rivers fall from his tear ducts, and he grabs at my father, at the guest to his right, but neither adheres to his stifled plea for help. He begins to heave as his lungs stop listening to the command his brain sends for them to inhale fresh oxygen.
I lower my hands into my lap, enabling me to squeeze my own hand to get through this moment. Never before have I seen a reaction so violent and drawn out. Never before have I seen this amount of sheer terror.
As the man slumps face first against the table, the room falls silent; the world seemingly stops spinning while we register what it was we just witnessed - death in its rawest form.
"That, my friends, is what happens when you come into my house, near my family, and continue to be a rat. This, my companions, is what my daughter is capable of without anyone even so much as noticing. This is her part in serving the Dio Lavoro. Isn't it beautiful?"
All eyes are on me, and I feel my back instinctively straighten. I give a right smile as they all survey the murderer in the room.
"Her work is magnificent," he appreciates, pushing me upon my pedestal. "As you may have noticed, she has Manhattan police in quite a debacle, but it is now, with my utmost trust, I extend a hope that you will all protect and serve not only myself, but my daughter." He looks around the room, taking in each man as they sit before him. "It's either that or you don't make it through to dessert."
There’s a chorus of affirmatives, everyone looking between my father and us shedding support to us all. It’s laughable how people react when presented with a deadly ultimatum. As the ruckus continues, I shoot my father a look and gesture for the door. I need to talk to him urgently!
“Excuse my daughter and I,” my father announces. He does the button on his suit as he stands.
I say nothing as I take a gulp of my champagne and stand to leave with him. We take a short walk, heading to his office for optimal privacy. As soon as the doors are closed, I’m going directly for my father.