Page 59 of Masked Don

How do I know?

“All I can do is show you,” he says, as if reading my mind. “Don’t let her give you a reason to run before I’ve given you a reason to stay.”

For a little while, it’s good. It’s better than good. We move through the room, and he keeps me lit up. I start to feel like I belong on his arm.

And then the air changes.

I feel him before I see him, like he’s an approaching storm shifting the air pressure. A ripple moves through the crowd, heads turning toward the doorway of the room.

Near the bar, a woman in pearls leans toward her husband. “They pulled a man out of the Harlem River this morning. Wearing a kid’s party mask, Richard. A bunny.”

Enzo’s hand doesn’t move on my back. I don’t look at him. I think of glitter in pink tissue paper with my son’s name on the card, and something cold and satisfied settles in my chest, and I don’t ask.

I already know.

I turn just as Luca walks in. He’s dressed for the evening in a variation of what he wore at the meeting, a sharp suit, expensive watch, and a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes. He moves into the room like the night is about him.

“Easy,” Enzo says quietly. “He’s not going to do anything here he can’t take back. He’s going to talk. Let him.”

Luca reaches us with his glass already raised, like we’re all old friends. “Enzo, quite a party. And…” He turns to me, and the smile sharpens. “You brought your assistant. Off the clock, even, and in quite a dress.”

“Luca,” Enzo says flatly. It’s not a greeting; it’s a warning.

Luca’s had a few, and Luca in a crowd is Luca at his worst, because a crowd is the only thing he’s ever really loved. He pitches his voice just a little louder than it needs to be, just enough for the nearest cluster of people to catch it, the way he did five years ago with a microphone in his hand.

“I’ve been wondering since our meeting.” He looks me up and down, that old awful appraising crawl that used to make me feel like meat. “What is this, exactly? Because I know this girl, Enzo.”

Enzo narrows his eyes. “Be very careful, Luca.”

“I wouldn’t dream of being otherwise. I know her, Enzo. I knew her a hell of a lot better than you know her once upon a time. In fact, I remember having her in my bed for the better part of two years.” He says it to the room around us just as much as he does to Enzo.

“Stop,” I say, “now.”

But he doesn’t stop. He turns to the people around us instead, all reasonable charm. “I’m only saying what everyone here is thinking. The old man hasn’t been seen in a year. The sister owes my tables six figures. And the one person Enzo trusts with his calendar is a girl who used to sleep in my bed.” He lets that settle. “If I sat at the elders’ table, I’d wonder whose secrets she’s really keeping.”

A few gasps sound around us. Enzo clenches his hands into fists, ready to step toward him. But I shoot him a quick glance.

“You say another word,” I say, “and watch what happens, you spoiled little prick.”

He clicks his tongue. “So, what is it, Enzo? Charity? Or is it that she’s good for a hell of a lot more than just keeping your schedule?” His smile widens, all teeth.

The little knot of people around us has gone quiet. I’ve already opened my mouth, ready to unleash on this arrogant asshole. But Enzo’s hand finds the small of my back. Not pulling me behind him, just there. A question, the way it was the very first night. And in the half second it takes me to feel it, I understand. He’s not stepping in front of me; he’s asking if I want the floor or if I’ll let him take this one. And I decide, just this once, to let him.

“Luca.” Enzo’s voice doesn’t rise. “I’m going to say this once, clearly, so there’s no confusion later, because I find confusion leads to mistakes, and I’d hate for you to make one.”

He sets his glass down on a passing tray.

“I want to get one thing clear: This woman is not charity, and she’s not a possession. She’s not a joke I’m telling at your expense, though God knows, you’d make an easy punchline.”

A ripple of laughter moves through the crowd.

“She’s the sharpest mind I’ve got in my arsenal, and I have a great, great many sharp minds at my disposal.

“So, let’s correct your bullshit in public, since you brought it in with you tonight.” He pauses and his voice drops, somehow traveling farther the lower it gets. “You think her softness is weakness, which is a mistake that might be the one that ends you. Let me be clear for everyone listening: Anyone who mistakes this woman’s softness for weakness will answer to me. But only after they answer to her. And I promise you, when she’s done with you, you’ll wish I’d had my chance first.”

“And since you asked whose secrets she keeps,” he adds. “Mine. That’s why you’re nervous.”

Luca’s face has tightened in fury. He’s looking for the comeback, the recovery, the thing that flips it, and for once he can’t find it, because there’s nothing to grab. You can fight a man who calls you a thief. You can’t fight a man who just told the whole room that you’re the one who should be afraid.