Chapter 7 - An Invitation to Dinner|
At six in the evening, the grand mansion was bathed in twilight.
Isabella descended the curved marble staircase wearing an exquisite emerald satin evening gown. Her diamond earrings caught the light of the wall sconces as she glided toward the main foyer where Dante stood waiting in a dark charcoal suit.
“You look breathtaking, Isabella,” Dante said smoothly, stepping forward to kiss her cheek.
“Thank you, my love,” she purred, lingering close against his chest. “Are you sure you won't join me for the St. Jude Charity Gala tonight? The mayor will be there.”
“Regrettably, I have an urgent meeting with my Capos in Brooklyn regarding the pier disputes,” Dante lied effortlessly, gently adjusting the fur stole over her shoulders. “I wouldn't want to bore you with mafia business.”
Isabella laughed softly, patting his lapel.
“You are always working so hard for us, Dante. Don't stay up too late.”
“I won't,” Dante replied softly. “Enjoy your evening.”
He watched her walk out the heavy oak double doors. Outside, a black town car waited on the gravel driveway. The driver—a man Dante recognized as one of Russo’s undercover soldiers—opened the door for her.
As the car’s taillights vanished down the long poplar-lined driveway, Mateo stepped out from the shadows of the foyer.
He held up a tablet screen. A tiny red dot was pulsing steadily on a digital map of New Jersey, moving rapidly toward the Lincoln Tunnel.
“She took the bait,” Mateo reported, his tone tense. “She swapped the lead fake for the bronze tracked seal five minutes before coming downstairs.”
Dante pulled his leather gloves onto his hands, his face completely devoid of emotion.
“Assemble the strike team,” Dante ordered quietly. “Six cars. Heavy weapons. We follow at a five-mile distance.”
“Where do you think she’s taking it?” Mateo asked.
May you like
Dante looked out at the rain pouring over the stone gates of his compound.
“She’s taking it to her father,” Dante said. “And tonight, the Russo family pays their debt for Marco.”
