8. Alek #2
I smirk at her. “Now that’s my kinda woman,” I tease her, my voice deep and rumbling.
Her face flushes lightly but she rolls her eyes and looks to Raff who has a modest look of jealousy crossing his features.
“Gun. That’s all I need to get the job done,” he says. “Threaten with a gun, kill with a gun, either way.”
I nod my head slowly. “Fair enough,” I reply and keep myself quiet for the remainder of the drive.
The charity gala is an hour outside of Tessari, and we arrive fashionably late, of course.
The Bianchis are never be expected to arrive somewhere on time.
Besides, they figure if they show up when the crowd has already started to form outside and inside, they’ll be less noticeable.
Franky, I don’t think it fucking matters. The Dresvanni already know they’re going to be there, not just because of me, but because it makes sense for them to be there. They won’t be the only ones. Anyone who is anyone in Italy will be there. Celebrities and Crime Lords alike.
It’s not too long before the car pulls up at the front entrance to the building A red carpet laid out, cameras lined up like this is the Met rather than a simple charity gala in Italy.
It’s always like this, though; the public is desperate to know the lives of those wealthier and more powerful than them, so they take pleasure even in a photograph of us walking into a party.
I get out of the car first and help Petra get out.
“We should pose as each other’s date,” I offer as I hold her hand and she uses her other one to brush her skirt down.
“I think that’s my job,” Raff insists, his voice laced with jealousy again.
I tilt my head to the side and offer her hand to him. “Go ahead,” I say smoothly. “If you mess things up, I certainly wouldn’t want to face her.”
Petra smirks softly and refuses to take Raff’s hand.
I may have made a mistake. If Petra is going to cling to me tonight, I won’t have much room to meet Carmine and Soren.
Thankfully she lets go of my hand and looks at the both of us with contempt. “I don’t need a man to accompany me tonight. Just do your jobs,” she tells us.
I narrow my eyes at her but nod and let her walk ahead of us. Raff and I walk forward together, though he stays ahead of me ever so slightly as though he doesn’t want it to be assumed that we are a couple.
My own care is very shallow. Raff isn’t my type, but if people want to assume we’re an item, it just gives me more of an alibi for the evening.
The flashing of cameras makes it hard to see for a moment, but between blinks I can see a curious look on peoples faces.
This is the first time I’ve been out in public like this as part of the Bianchis.
They’re likely wondering who the hell I am and what I’m doing as part of one of the wealthiest business man’s crew.
For all they know, he’s on the straight and narrow, so I must be one hell of an employee or a friend of the family, to get into a function such as this.
While I’m sure some are aware of the nefarious truth behind the Bianchi family, most see Stephan Bianchi as a figurehead in the tech world. Just as they see Carmine Dresvanni as the son who took over his fathers’ weapons business.
I don’t stop to pose for the cameras, simply giving them a slight wave before making my way into the building behind Petra and Raff.
They’re being greeted and handed drinks almost immediately.
If they know what’s good for them, they’ll pretend to sip at those drinks and keep themselves clear-headed.
I’m hoping they don’t.
Thankfully, not many people stop me to talk as I make my way through the crowd with a glass of champaign. They don’t particularly know me, so they’re far more concerned with talking to Petra and Raff.
I scan the room until I spot him.
Tommaso.
He’s standing a couple feet away from his brother, Carmine, and his boytoy Soren. I can tell that they’re attempting to mingle while also waiting for me. It will be quite a while before I can make an excuse to talk to them, so I pull my gaze away from them and focus on Petra and Raff.
Petra walks over to me with someone I vaguely recognize as Raymond Valdetti, a celebrity who frequently gets himself in trouble with the media.
“Trevor, have you ever met Raymond?” she asks me, confirming my recognition.
I shake my head and gently sip at my drink, just enough to taste it on my tongue but not enough to actually swallow anything but my own saliva.
“No, I haven’t. I have heard of you however,” I tell the man and I reach a hand out to shake his.
He shakes my hand but his eyes stay on Petra and I can tell he’s particularly interested in her tonight.
The following conversation is about as boring as I can handle.
He goes on and on about how many movies he’s going to be doing over the next year and how he needs someone to be his secretary, clearly trying to goad Petra into something.
She seems interested, honestly, but I can’t quite tell if it’s her putting on a show or if she’s serious. What I do know, however, is when she looks at me sideways, she wants me to leave them alone.
I excuse myself just as someone is getting on the mic on the small stage nearby and announcing how much money has been raised already, and that dinner will be served soon.
I myself donated a few thousand dollars to the charity, though I’m not quite sure if it’s to find families for orphaned children or to build houses for orphaned children. Either way, it’s a good cause and not donating anything would be suspicious.
As the night goes on, it grows closer to both my meeting with Carmine and Soren, and Carmine’s intended kidnapping.
Raff and Petra are both distracted, so I wander over toward the bar where Carmine and Soren are both seated after dinner and stand where I can see Petra and Raff if needed, but still talk to them.
“Trevor,” Carmine says slowly. It’s a good thing he called me by my cover name; you never know who is listening.
I nod slowly. “I assume Tommaso told you the plan,” I say quietly.
He nods as well. “Yes. Whenever you’re ready, I am,” he agrees. “But first, I’d like to know just why you agreed to all this.”
I glance at him sideways. “You and your family—you have to know everything, don’t you?” I ask him in return.
Soren smirks at me but then his gaze goes cold. “You should know better than to try to keep something from us,” he tells me.
I look back into the crowd and slide my hands into my pockets, no longer carrying a drink.
“If you must know, the Bianchi killed someone important to me,” I mutter. “Anymore than that you’ll have to beat out of me. Are you interested in that, or would you rather I help save your own life tonight?” I glance back at Carmine and Soren.
They stand close to each other, their hands almost touching but not quite. It’s a known fact that they’re together, but they seem to remain subdued in public. It makes sense if they are trying to maintain their reputations for violence. Being lovey-dovey in public wouldn’t exactly be a good image.
Carmine sighs softly. “That’s good enough, I suppose,” he says and glances at Soren, who nods.
“We’ll need to talk more after this. I’d like to know more about the bomb situation,” he tells me.
I chuckle softly. “You and me both,” I reply. Then I glance toward Petra.
She’s looking right at me, her eyes uncertain.
“It’s time,” I mutter.
Soren kisses Carmine on the cheek and then acts as though he’s going to talk to someone else in the room, leaving Carmine and I alone, making Carmine an easy target.
I pull my gun out and press it to Carmine’s back, but not before making sure Petra can see me. She nods toward the back room of the gala and then heads for Raff.
I lead Carmine toward the backroom with my gun pressed to his back under his suit jacket. He remains calm, and I gently maintain a pointless conversation as we head to the backroom. Raff is there when we get in, but Petra is suddenly caught up with Raymond who stopped her on the way here.
Perfect.
I shove Carmine into the backroom roughly and he stumbles forward. Raff follows in behind us.
“Where’s Petra?” he asks.
“Preoccupied,” I reply. “Here, you put your gun on him, I’ll go get her.”
Raff doesn’t think twice, he simply steps behind Carmine with his own gun and I step around him. While he’s doing this, I quickly grab his gun from his hand and toss it to the side. It’s too loud for me to use it.
Carmine tosses me his own gun. If Tommaso did everything right, Carmine’s gun should have a silencer on it.
“What the fuck are y—” before he can get the words out, I point the gun as his head and shoot. The bullet goes through his forehead and out the other side of his head, ricochetting on the floor before going still.
His body slumps to the floor and partially against Carmine’s back.
Just then Petra walks into the room.
“What’s going on here?” she asks as her eyes find Raff’s body, then shift up to me.
I immediately dart for her and she pulls her gun out pointing it at me.
“I knew you were sketchy, Trevor,” she hisses at me as she steps closer. I have my gun pointed at her as well, and we circle each other as she glares at me. “You’re not going to ruin this for me.”
“It’s all about you, isn’t it?” I ask her, my voice low. “Doesn’t matter who gets hurt.”
“Raff was weak. Jealous. Didn’t need him anyway,” Petra says casually, but keeps her piece directed at my chest.
“You’re one hell of a woman, too bad you won’t be here long—” Before I can speak, she shoots me, seeming to take her chances with my own gun. Carmine’s gun.
The bullets hit my chest with a thud and I instinctively drop my gun and fall to the floor. I gasp for breath and put my hands over my chest, over the bullet holes.
Out of the corner of my eyes I watch Petra as she grins and whirls around toward Carmine but finds he’s not there.