A Madness of Crows: Mafia University #3

11. Day 39 – Luciano

My foot crashes into a full bottle of champagne as I dance my way down the long dining table, kicking plates and glasses out of my way.

Offering a lazy grin at the cheers that rise up when it smashes against the wall, I crook my finger at the girl dancing at the other end.

Her eyes light up, red and green light flashing over her face as she bounces towards me, pressing our hips together as we shift in time to the music.

The room is filled with the smoke of cigars, the techno music threatening to make my ears bleed.

A scream sounds in the background. More laughter.

The girl tries to slam our mouths together as if she hasn’t heard it, and I yank my head back with a rough laugh. “I don’t kiss whores.”

When her face falls, I peck her on the cheek instead, my finger brushing her chin. “Go and see if you can drag a smile out of Rossi instead. The uptight prick could use a little something.”

She sashays away from me with a pout but jumps off the table, staggering in her heels.

Raising my hands above my head, I sway to the music, my eyes half-lidded as she pads across the packed room. Sweat trickles down my back, my loosened tie and the undone buttons on my shirt not enough to bring any relief from the stifling heat of too many bodies packed into the small space.

Dom tilts his head to listen to her, an irritated expression flickering across his face as he looks my way before he shakes his head, pushing her roving hands away.

My grin stretches across my face, unnaturally wide as I raise the cigar to my mouth and puff on it, offering him a cocky salute with my other hand. Leaning down, I snag the neck of another champagne bottle, raising it up to the ceiling in a toast as my voice rises over the music. “To the Hawk!”

“The Hawk!”

Every man here cheers, whistles ringing out as the man in question turns, inclining his head to me with a smirk.

Matteo takes a swig from a bottle of Joseph Corvo’s finest vintage wine, his eyes on me. When he jerks his head in a summons, I dance for a few seconds longer before jumping down, grabbing my own bottle on the way.

My veins are abuzz with something stronger than alcohol as I stroll towards him, and a laugh escapes me as he hooks an arm around my neck, dragging me close. “Enjoying the party, amico?”

The smile curls around my lips, tugging them upwards. “I do love a party, Corvo.”

He chuckles. “Don’t I know it.”

My eyes sweep over the man standing silent and still at his shoulder. Domenico stares out at the crowd, the dark circles beneath his eyes nearly overtaking his face. Bruising lingers on his throat, shades of purple and green peeping out from the collar of his shirt.

Matteo’s voice lowers. “He’s making excellent progress.”

“I’m delighted to hear it.” Dom doesn’t respond to our words. Doesn’t look my way at all, although his jaw tightens.

Anger. Revulsion, maybe. Both are equally possible.

Matteo is still talking, and I pull my gaze from Dom to listen. “I’m glad you saw the light, Morelli. It would have been a damn shame if you’d bled out that night.”

I force my laugh out. “And let you miss out on the delight of my company? I don’t think so.”

He smirks again, the caps on his teeth glinting. “Maybe I misjudged you.”

I grin. “Everyone always does.”