Chapter 90: 90 – Black Rose

Damien…

Leonor stays exactly where I left her. I know this because, every now and then, our eyes meet across the room.

Her silence worries me. Leonor being too quiet is never a good sign.

I greet a few associates without ever fully taking my attention off her. The meeting is bound to truly begin at any moment. For all intents and purposes, I’m the one holding the reins while our Don is temporarily unavailable. I’m taking care of his position. And his wife.

Leonor adjusts the ominous scarf wrapped around her head. I should have ripped it off before we left the house. She shifts farther to the side, and I have the urge to cross the room and drag her back, but I’m pulled into yet another pointless conversation.

People keep asking about the former Don. The answer is always the same: he had to deal with unresolved matters after the engagement.

Dario watches me more than anyone else tonight. He’s been looking for trouble for days, testing my patience.

As the youngest brother, spoiled by our mother and merely tolerated by the rest of us, he thinks that gives him the right to speak out of turn.

My tolerance is hanging by a thread.

“Damien, are you even listening to what I’m saying? The shipment is having issues. We need to deal with it before it snowballs. It’s only getting bigger, and you’re ignoring it because you’re babysitting that girl,” my younger brother says.

I swirl the glass of sweet sparkling wine in my hand. Disgusting. Whoever handed this to me should become part of the shipment. It’s not a bad idea.

I leave the glass on a nearby table, ignoring his failing arguments.

“Everything is under control on my end. Managing the shipment details should be your responsibility. Didn’t I teach you anything, brother? Can’t you command respect without my presence?” I say, and it takes him a moment to respond.

The last guests begin to arrive for the meeting. Leonor keeps watch, looking in every direction, trying to slip toward the nearest exit.

Dario says something else that I let pass unheard as I head straight for Leonor. She senses me approaching and freezes in place, fists clenched, shoulders drawn inward, the defeated sigh of someone caught in the act.

“Where do you think you’re going, Leonor?”

She turns and gives me a fake smile. She fiddles with her hair, only emphasizing how inappropriate that scarf is.

“I need some air. Nothing’s even started yet, so…” She lets the rest of the sentence trail off, looking everywhere but into my eyes.

I grab her arm and pull her toward a more secluded corner. I reach for the scarf, and she slaps my hand away, stepping back.

“What are you trying to do? Get me discovered?” she snaps, and I laugh at her imagination.

My sweet, naive Leonor. As if that truly mattered. I let her keep the scarf for now. Most of the people here weren’t present at the rushed wedding. There would be another ceremony to formally present the bride. This side of the family would only meet her later.

“You’re here as my guest. You should stay by my side at all times. Come. The meeting is about to begin.”

She walks beside me reluctantly, sulking after being stopped from escaping dinner.

I place my hand at the small of her back, guiding her toward the table where everyone is already gathered, waiting. Polite conversations about everyday matters float through the air.

For now, this is a more informal gathering. The real meeting will happen later, with the truly important figures. This is broader political ground, a direct relationship between the company and its clients, so to speak.

My siblings approach, not bothering to hide their displeasure. Chiara has the audacity to call Leonor my stepmother. Only the two of us hear it, but even so, she should be careful where she steps in a minefield.

She finishes speaking and sits beside me, as always. It’s always her and Dario, to my left and right.

I hold the chair when she tries to pull it back.

“This seat is reserved, sister. You should find another,” I say quietly enough for only her to hear.

Dario approaches from the other side to take his place, crossing the room greeting everyone like a diplomat. I gesture to Salo, indicating where he should sit.

My three brothers exchange a complicit look. None of them disobey me in front of so many people. We are a united front while Don Romero spends time away. They answer to me now.

I pull out Leonor’s chair. She still looks distant, as if she might bolt at any moment. One look from me is enough to make her straighten her posture and lose the impulse to stand.

At the same time, Salo sits to my right, occupying Dario’s usual seat. The capos and businessmen notice the shift but don’t linger on our dynamic.

Dinner begins with my brothers redistributed around the table, quickly surrounded by opportunistic sycophants. I’m being generous, considering how much they’ve tested my patience since the day the Don “disappeared.”

I raise the first toast, and the subtle negotiations begin. We speak in codes, signaling interests. The demand for hearts is increasing. Not more than for livers, though. Just watching for a few seconds how some of them lose control makes the reason clear. A few businessmen are likely planning to claim the shipment for themselves.

Hours later, after a long dinner, the most expendable guests are dismissed.

Gael Mancini approaches me with his sly smile. He’s a slender man, the kind who looks like a painting that always seems to be watching you no matter where you stand.

He’s in charge of interrogations. The kind that require tools. And the kind where the person never even realizes they’ve given away valuable information.

One of the snakes in this nest, slithering closer to me.

“Will I have the pleasure of meeting your illustrious companion?” he asks, without pretense.

I don’t like his tone. It’s the voice of someone who believes he has the upper hand and is about to see a theory confirmed. Extreme caution is required around this man. He’s one of my father’s most loyal allies, dating back to the days of the underground races.

“Another time. Right now, she’s about to retire for the night,” I say, searching for Leonor as she slowly tries to slip away.

“When I heard you would be leading the meeting, I imagined my old friend would be enjoying the company of his beautiful wife. But I see she’s by your side instead. And far from her husband.”

If I had a bottle in my hand right now, I’d smash it over his head for the direct affront.

When I don’t respond immediately, he smiles. His mouth tightens, his eyes half-close, and a brief shudder of satisfaction runs through his body.

He knows Leonor’s true identity.

I’ll have to rethink my plan before others discover her whereabouts. And who she really is.