Chapter 6: The Anniversary Dinner

The Falzone anniversary dinner was held in the long room above the Calumet club, where I had hosted it seven times.

I arrived at eight with my hand on Declan Harrigan's arm and a leather bag over my shoulder.

My dress was black and cut low in the back, and Maeve had pinned it herself in the car, with her mouth full of pins and a lecture about posture.

Six of Declan's men walked behind us, as I had asked, with their hands in plain view.

At the foot of the stairs Declan stopped and bent to my ear.

"There are two hundred people in that room who think you're a ruin," he said quietly.

"Yes."

"When this is finished, I'm going to take that dress off you with my teeth, and I'm not going to be gentle about it."

Heat went up my neck and into my face, and I did not look at him.

"Is that a promise, Harrigan?"

"It's a schedule."

He straightened and smiled at the doorman, who had gone pale.

We went up the stairs together.

The talk in the long room stopped in a ragged line, from the door to the head of the table.

Five families sat there, each with a Don and his wife.

At the center sat Renato in his father's chair, with his mother on his left.

On his right, in a cream dress with a white cardigan, sat Paola.

She looked small and tired and very pretty.

A vase of white roses stood in front of her place.

"Giulia," Renato said, and he rose slowly. "You weren't invited."

"My father's name is on the founding cup," I said. "Under the old rule, a Brandolini sits at this table. I'm the only one who came."

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