Chapter 4

Adriana's POV

"Listen, all of you. The gown itself, maybe it isn't worth much," I said calmly. "But what it stands for can't be measured in laundered cash."

Lorenzo clearly didn't grasp the weight of what I was saying.

"It's just a damn dress," he muttered, walking toward me across the marble floor of the reception hall. "Why act like it means something?"

He drew closer, smirking. "Let me guess. You're just trying to squeeze more tribute out of me, aren't you? Go on, name your price. A hundred grand? A million?"

I held back the fury building inside me and locked eyes with him. "Mr. Falcone, do you seriously believe everything in this world can be settled with money?"

He raised an eyebrow with the ease of a man who had never once been refused, mockery bare in his voice. "Doesn't it?"

"Adriana," he said, voice hardening, "maybe you forgot. This is New York. Falcone territory. You want to test me? One call, and no one finds a trace of you in this city."

I clenched my fists and forced myself to stay composed, answering slowly and clearly. "Mr. Falcone, I just want to be sure. Was that a threat?"

Before he could answer, his courier cut in with a snarl. "Damn right it was. What, you gonna cry about it?"

Bianca squared up to me, pearls at her throat catching the low light. "Come on, tough girl. Hit me. I dare you."

I turned to her with a cold, emotionless gaze. "Let me guess. You actually think being some man's lapdog is something to be proud of. Am I right?"

Her face went beet red. She stammered, one finger jabbing at me, too flustered to find a comeback.

Lorenzo stepped in fast, sliding her behind him. "Who the hell are you calling a lapdog? Bianca's been with me since she was nothing. She's practically famiglia. Apologize to her right now, or I promise you don't walk out of this room."

Funny. Within a single hour, I'd taken a threat twice over.

In all my years sworn to the Commission, moving through rooms where a wrong word ended a bloodline, I'd never once imagined something this small and this stupid happening to me.

This time, I was done talking.

I drew my phone in front of all of them and calmly placed a call.

"Hello. It's Adriana."

The voice on the other end brightened instantly. "Well, if it isn't Adriana. What's the trouble? You finally meet the man they've bound you to? You like what you see?"

I glanced at the man standing across from me and let out a cold chuckle. "It's a long story. But I have something to report, and it can't wait. Someone threw the gown you had made for me into a garbage can. What did you say?"

The shock in his voice nearly split the speaker.

"You better not be joking with me, Adriana. That gown had the Commission's seal stitched into it."

My blood was boiling now too.

"You think I'd joke about that? And the one who trashed it? She didn't apologize. She stood there and threatened to kill me," I added.

Then I laid out everything that had happened, plain and complete, and by the end I heard glass shattering somewhere on his end of the line.

"Who was it?" he asked, and his voice had gone very quiet.

Just as I opened my mouth to answer, Bianca snatched the phone from my hand.

"You're the so-called boss she keeps blabbing about?" she scoffed. She touched the pearls at her throat and laughed a half-beat too quickly. "I'm Lorenzo Falcone's personal courier. You've got a problem, you take it up with me."

The line went silent for several seconds. Somewhere on the other end, a man who had ordered graves dug was deciding what to make of a woman who spoke to him like that.

"So you're the one who destroyed Adriana's gown," he said at last, "and then turned around and threatened her."

She still didn't understand what she was holding in her hand. She stayed as cocky as ever.

"Enough talk. Just tell me what you want," Bianca barked.

"You'll find out soon enough," he replied, calm as still water.

Even through the phone, I could feel the fire under it.

But Bianca didn't hear the difference between a calm man and a patient one, and she fired back without missing a beat.

"Old man, you've been watching too many pictures, haven't you?" she scoffed. "Let's see who in this city actually dares go up against the Falcone Family."

She hung up and turned to Lorenzo with a smug little grin, proud of herself, waiting for praise like a dog waits for scraps.

I couldn't help it. I laughed.

"Mr. Falcone, you really know how to pick them," I said, smirking. "Even across all Five Families, I've never met anyone quite as fearless as your courier."

Bianca missed the blade under the words entirely. She rolled her eyes. "Please. I don't care who your so-called boss is. As long as Mr. Falcone runs things, the Falcones aren't going anywhere."

I tilted my head slightly and gave a small smile. Under the table's edge, out of their sight, I twisted the plain iron ring on my right hand once, slowly.

"Is that so? Then let me ask you something. What happens if, after today, there is no Falcone Family left in this city?"

Right then, a man near the tall windows suddenly shouted, "Look outside!"

Everyone rushed to the glass.

Down in the courtyard, a long line of black cars was rolling in, each one bearing the mark of the Commission, sleek and silent and terrible. The whole convoy slid toward the venue like a verdict already passed, and one by one, every man in the room went still.