Chapter 5
The vibrant, cinematic colors of the ballroom felt completely corrupted by the violence that had just unfolded. The beautiful floral arrangements, the pristine marble, and the bright summer light were now a backdrop to shattered porcelain, broken acrylic, and bleeding family members.
Domenico turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes locking onto his most trusted capo, a broad-shouldered white American man named Silvio.
"Silvio," Domenico commanded, his voice perfectly measured. "Take Livia. Bring her to the secure suite upstairs. Put four men on the door. Do not let anyone inside unless it is me."
"Yes, Boss," Silvio replied immediately. He stepped forward, his dark suit blending into the shadows of the doorway. He reached out his large, calloused hands.
"No, Daddy, please!" Livia cried, clinging tighter to Domenico’s neck, her small fingers twisting into his silk tie. "Don't make me go! I want to stay with you!"
Domenico’s hardened, masculine face softened for a fraction of a second. He gently kissed her rosy cheek, brushing the tears away with his thumb. "Listen to me, Livia. You are going to go with Uncle Silvio. He is going to give you some ice cream, and you are going to watch your favorite movie. Daddy has some business to attend to. I will be up very soon. I promise."
Livia sniffled, her blue eyes wide and frightened, but she nodded slowly. Domenico carefully transferred his daughter into Silvio’s waiting arms. The capo held the little girl securely, turning on his heel and marching swiftly out of the ballroom, flanked immediately by four bodyguards.
Once Livia was safely out of the room, the terrifying, veteran Mafia boss returned in full force. Domenico adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, his heavy signet ring glinting. He looked down at the yellowed envelope in his hand. It was old, the edges frayed, sealed with a thick layer of dried red wax.
"Get them up," Domenico ordered, gesturing toward the wreckage on the floor.
Half a dozen bodyguards surged forward. Three men hauled Marco out from beneath the shattered acrylic seating chart. The associate groaned, his face a mess of blood and broken cartilage, his expensive suit ruined. Two other men dragged Camilla out of the crushed flower petals and broken lanterns, ignoring her whimpers of pain as they forced her to her feet.
"Domenico, you have to listen to me," Camilla pleaded, her American accent thick with desperation and tears. "We were trying to protect the family! The envelope, it’s a trap! If you open it, everything we’ve built will be destroyed!"
"The only thing being destroyed today is my patience," Domenico replied coldly. "Clear the ballroom. Move the guests to the west wing gardens. Secure the perimeter."
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"What about the wedding, Boss?" a lieutenant asked nervously.
"The wedding," Domenico stated, his eyes locking onto Marco’s bleeding face, "is officially delayed. Bring these two to my private study. We are going to have a family meeting."
