Chapter 3
The grand dining room of the Crowne estate was a masterclass in luxurious elegance. Cascading crystal chandeliers hung heavily from the gilded ceiling moldings, casting a brilliant, warm golden light that eliminated all shadows. The ivory-paneled walls and the grand carved marble fireplace glowed with a luminous, airy warmth. Polished walnut tables were surrounded by plush champagne velvet chairs, currently occupied by the most powerful figures of the criminal underworld.
Tall ivory candles glowed in ornate silver candelabras, their flickering light dancing across the crystal stemware, fine porcelain, and the sprawling centerpieces of immaculate white roses. The supplementary lighting in the room was flawless, ensuring that the fair, rosy skin and sharp expressions of every guest remained clearly visible.
At the head table sat Everett Vance. He was a mafia boss who radiated an aura of quiet, terrifying authority. Movie-star handsome, his powerful shoulders filled out a tailored dark three-piece suit. His angular face, high-bridged nose, and sharp jaw were accented by extremely short, neatly trimmed stubble. His thick, slightly wavy hair was swept back flawlessly. He remained still, his cold, observant eyes scanning the crowded room. The refined tattoos across his hands and fingers caught the golden light as he steepled his fingers, the heavy signet ring gleaming on his hand. A small neck tattoo was just visible above his crisp white collar.
Standing beside Everett’s left shoulder was Amara Voss. She wore a sculpted satin evening gown that clung to her curves, looking every inch the victorious queen of the syndicate. Diamond earrings flashed brilliantly, competing only with the massive engagement ring on her left hand. She maintained an affectionate, polished smile, greeting the capos and politicians with practiced grace.
"The champagne is exquisite tonight, Amara," a nearby senator commented, raising his glass. "You truly have a gift for hosting."
"Thank you, Senator," Amara replied, her American accent smooth and melodic. "I only want the very best for Everett and our guests."
Everett turned his head slightly, his cold eyes fixing on the senator. "Have the harbor patrols been adequately compensated for their sudden blindness this evening, Senator?"
The senator chuckled nervously, intimidated by Everett’s deep, quiet voice. "Yes, Mr. Vance. Everything is proceeding exactly as you requested."
"Do you believe a man can truly appreciate loyalty if he does not verify it himself?" Everett asked, his controlled pauses carrying the weight of a physical threat.
"I assure you, the loyalty is absolute," the senator stammered, quickly taking a sip of his champagne.
Amara rested a manicured hand gently on Everett’s broad shoulder. "Are you enjoying the evening, darling?" she asked softly.
May you like
Everett did not lean into her touch. He stared at the white roses in the center of the table. "Could a man ask for a more illuminating gathering?"
In the periphery of the room, Celia stood perfectly still, her hands folded over her neatly tied white apron. She watched the head table with intense focus. The main courses had been cleared. The moment of truth had arrived. She slipped backward through the heavy doors, heading toward the kitchen to retrieve the small, porcelain bowl of orange-and-clove rice pudding.
