Chapter 8 -
The drama came to a stop when the large doors of the dining room abruptly opened, and a procession of armed men marched in with different sorts of guns and firearms. The people surrounding the table with her quickly stood up, patiently awaiting whoever was coming. Nia didn’t need to be told that the person was a big fish. Probably bigger than DeSanto because he was also upright, a grim expression on his handsome face and exuding menacing aura. Even fiery Lucia looked subdued, but then there was the bald man who had the same expression for everything.
Nia remained seated, unsure if she was even allowed to stand. For one, she was curious about the figure that had them on their toes, and not figuratively. Then she remembered hearing Lucia mention ‘The Don,’ probably the head of whatever criminal organization they belonged to. She didn’t think of it till now that the clues were staring at her—like the absence of food on the table, and their formal attire; which all pointed out that this dinner wasn’t the regular one. It’s a meeting. And she was invited to this meeting. The armed guards stood like a wall, their presence amplifying the gravity of the moment, then after they all filled in, they parted, leaving a path in their midst. The path gave way to a man in a tailored black suit and completely white hair that was slicked back excellently. Every step he took echoed through the room, and with each sound, the tension built up like an unbalanced jenga tower, waiting to crumble any moment.
His eyes scanned the room, from person to person, and even DeSanto—the man who until now appeared untouchable—inclined his head slightly in respect. Without any formal introduction, she knew this was the Don. Nia could barely breathe as his gaze landed on her, the weight of it demanding obedience. And despite his white hair, he didn’t seem exactly old, maybe in his fifties like Rosa or a bit older than the househelp. His eyes on her lingered, the black of his iris pierced her hazel ones, to the extent that she felt as if he could see straight through her, peeling back every palimpsest upon palimpsest. While under his watchful eye, Nia tried so hard to keep composed, to shoo her anxiety away and look strong for once. But all the factors adding together were not in her favor.
The Don stopped at the other end of the table, his voice deep and gravelly as he cut through the silence like a knife with his question.
“Where is the man who killed my daughter?”
Here she was trying to control her emotions, but her facial expressions weren’t the case, because her eyes widened at the question. The man who killed his daughter. Definitely the man they were looking for. Was it Alex? She shook her head internally, it couldn’t be. Maybe he was a lead to the actual killer, because the Alex she knew wouldn’t be able to hurt a fly. Yet the reminder of his infidelity made it seem like she didn’t know Alex at all.
Desanto’s voice ended her thoughts as he greeted with a respectful bow. “Don Emilio, welcome.”
Instead of a proper response to the gesture, the sound of the man’s angry fist landing on the polished table, startled Nia. Followed by his harsh words directed to the man at the other end.
“I don’t need your welcome, Leo. Where’s the man who killed my Andrea?”
The people on the table alongside her all appeared to look on the edge, and it was obvious that they were facing the main power. Well, who won’t quiver in the face of a man who commanded power. That who was Lucia. While others had variant forms of masked fear, Lucia looked genuinely worried. The woman in question, scooted her seat back and took hurried steps to the main power in the room.
“Papa, your blood pressure,” she pleaded as she crossed the length of the room with hurried strides. “Please have a seat first, we can discuss this matter over dinner.”
Right, he was her father judging from how his face tightened upon her reminder. Then his muscles visibly relaxed when her hands came over his arms, soothing him. Lucia tipped her head to a huge man who stood a few feet behind her father, and the massive facade of weight came forward to draw a chair for the Don at the other end of the table. Nia watched as he sat down slowly while his daughter took the seat nearest to him. “There there!” She patted his arm that was still interlinked with hers, both father and daughter sharing a look of respite before his angry eyes came back on her at the other end of the table.
The moment was short lived due to the large doors opening again, and a group of chefs came in bearing silver platters and trays of food that filled the air, making Nia’s belly churn. The arrival was timely because she didn’t know what would ensue if these people hadn’t come to relieve the oppressive atmosphere. Dishes were placed meticulously, all of which lined the table in a way fit for royalty. How quick the tables turned, Nia was supposed to have her best friend's chicken noodle soup for dinner. But somehow, she was kidnapped, and in ways she couldn’t seem to fathom, now dining with opulent strangers.
While her eyes roamed the table from one tray of food to another, the Don had been staring at her, unknowingly to Nia. Then when his question came directly at her, it caught her off guard.
“Who are you?”
She turned to the owner of the gruff voice sharply, seeing him relax in his seat, then to his right was Lucia whose hard gaze remained on her. Nia swallowed hard, knowing she shouldn’t keep the man waiting. But when she decided to respond, her voice betrayed her, cracking like a broken record.
“I…I am N-nia Wallace.” She cursed herself for the stammer because it just reflected how she felt—extremely terrified.
“So what is your business on this table, ragazza?” He asked, his voice laced with an unfamiliar accent, and a word she couldn’t even pronounce.
Honestly, what was her business on the table? Even she wanted to know what it was since everyone was being so secretive or cryptic about it.
“I don’t know my business here,” she stated with a pinch of sarcasm in her voice just as her face left the Don’s to focus on the man at the other end of the table, Leo DeSanto.
Sure enough, the specific target audience got the hint and narrowed his eyes at her, not in the least appreciative of her tone.
“You are here because of your connection to the man who took Andrea away from us,” DeSanto spoke up, his voice dropping to a deadly edge as he said again. “And because I intend to find him.”
Nia’s pulse picked up at his words, he was confirming what she had earlier suspected, laying it thick with no sugarcoating.
“But I’m not involved,” she countered with a much steadier voice, although her hands were balled in fists underneath the table. “I have nothing to do with what happened. I didn’t even know Alex was…” she paused for a moment, taking in the weight of the situation. “…involved in anything like this.”