Chapter 12: In Front of His Men

The dining hall at the Bertolini house seats thirty.

The table is a single plank of black walnut, twenty feet long.

It has stood in that room for sixty years.

At seven on Thursday evening I stood at the head of it in a black dress, with Dario's ribbon at my throat.

The chair at the Don's right hand was pulled out beside me, and I had not sat in it.

Six men stood against the long wall, side by side, with their hands folded in front of them.

They were Dario's own soldiers.

Luca was among them, at the far end, and he looked at the floor.

"They've been told only that the Don has something to show them," Dario said at my ear.

"Last chance, Elise. Tell me to stop."

"Don't you dare."

"Your own rule. Outside the bedroom you are Mrs. Bertolini, and no man in this house outranks you except me."

"I'm giving you the room."

"For how long?"

"Until I say enough."

His mouth curved, just once.

He walked down the table to the men and spoke without raising his voice.

"You will look at my wife," he said.

"You will not look away, you will not speak, and you will not leave until I tell you."

He let it settle.

"Anyone who cannot do that goes now."

Nobody moved.

A man with grey in his beard swallowed, hard.

Dario came back to me.

"Take off the dress."

I had thought I would be afraid.

I looked down the hall at six pairs of eyes fixed on mine.

What I felt was clear and bright and strange.

I reached behind me and unzipped the dress.

It dropped.

I stood in the lamplight in my underwear and the ribbon, with my chin up.

Nobody moved.

"Underwear," Dario said.

I stepped out of it and kicked it aside.

I heard a man suck air through his teeth.

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