Chapter 2 #2
"When the time is right—"
"The time is now," I interrupt. "The Morozovs are expanding. The other families are watching to see if you'll act or hesitate. Every day you wait makes us look weaker."
Her eyes narrow. "Careful, Adrian."
"I'm not being insubordinate. I'm being strategic. You taught me that." I hold her gaze. "The Commission needs to see strength. Decisiveness. Not deliberation."
She's quiet for a long moment, studying me. I can see her calculating, weighing, deciding.
"You'll lead when I say you're ready. Not before." I wince. "Tonight, I need you to attend the Marino Foundation Gala at The Palazzo." She turns back to me, perfectly composed. "You're the heir to the Nero family. People need to see you somewhere other than Page Six."
"Do they?" I ask, sarcasm lacing my voice. "Don't they love the image of the billionaire bad boy? It helps keep things hidden."
Bianca doesn't even blink. "You are a grown man now.
The time for that nonsense is over." Her eyes are sharp.
"People need to take you seriously, Adrian.
No more whoring and fighting. Violence is easy.
Any thug can pull a trigger. Leading a family like ours requires more than that.
It requires finesse. Restraint. The ability to shake hands with people you'd rather kill and make them believe you're their friend. "
She's not wrong about that either. I've been doing it for years.
"What time?"
"Eight o'clock. Leo will accompany you." She sits back down, already dismissing me. "And Adrian? Try not to kill anyone tonight. It's a charity event."
I leave without responding.
Leo is waiting in the hallway, I’m surprised to see him considering I gave him an order, but I suspect Biance overrode me. "I’ve been ordered to escort you.” He doesn’t sound happy about it.
I snort.
"She's stalling." I adjust my cufflinks. "The Morozovs are getting bold, and she thinks holding on tighter is the answer."
"And you think letting go is?"
"I think showing strength is." I head toward the exit. "Let's get this over with. I need to get back to the real problems.”
The Palazzo Hotel is exactly the kind of place I hate.
All marble and gold leaf and crystal chandeliers, packed with Manhattan's elite pretending their money is clean.
Politicians, business owners, old money families like mine.
Everyone dressed in their best, drinking expensive champagne, and lying through their teeth.
I hand my keys to the valet and walk inside, Leo beside me.
There was no way he was getting out of this.
The ballroom is already full. A string quartet plays in the corner. Waiters circulate with champagne and canapés. Women in designer gowns glitter under the chandeliers. Men in tuxedos cluster in groups, making deals and forming alliances.
This is my world. I was born into it. Raised for it. And I've never been particularly fond of it.
"Remember," Leo murmurs as we enter. "Finesse. Restraint."
I snort. "I know how to play the game."
And I do. Bianca trained me for this. I was learning which knife to use during the fish course around the same time I learned how to sever someone's artery for a quick kill.
I accept a glass of champagne I won't drink and begin the rounds.
I shake hands, make small talk, and grease wheels with polite conversation.
There's a developer who wants to discuss a property deal.
A judge who wants assurance about a case coming to trial.
A councilman who wants a donation for his re-election campaign.
I smile. I nod. I say the right things, and I try not to imagine how I could kill these people.
I'm bored out of my mind.
"Adrian Nero." A woman appears at my elbow, all red lips and calculated curves in a dress that costs more than most people's rent. "I was hoping you'd be here."
I don't remember her name. I don't care to remember it.
"Enjoying the evening?" I ask, because that's what you say.
"I'd enjoy it more if you remembered our conversation last month." She leans in, her perfume heavy and cloying. "You said you'd call."
I didn't. I never do. The Page Six Playboy reputation is well-earned.
"I've been busy."
"Too busy for dinner?" Her hand lands on my arm, perfectly manicured nails pressing into my jacket. "I'm free tomorrow. Or tonight, after this."
I should feel something. Interest. Desire. Even basic attraction. She's beautiful. Available. Clearly willing.
I feel nothing.
"I'll have to check my schedule," I say, already moving away. "Excuse me."
I don't look back.
Leo materializes beside me, handing me a fresh glass. "That was rude."
"That was efficient."
"She's the daughter of a Manhattan real estate developer. Could be a useful connection."
"Then you fuck her.”
He laughs. "I'm not the heir. I don't have to perform quite as much as you do."
"Then stop reminding me what I have to do and let me—"
I stop.
Because across the room, near the entrance, there's someone who catches my eye.
She's wearing a black dress that fits well enough but isn't designer. Her hair is dark, pulled back in a simple style. She wears no jewelry except small earrings, and she's clutching a small purse like it's a lifeline, her eyes wide as she takes in the ballroom.
She looks terrified.
But she's not hiding.
She's studying the room. Cataloging exits. Identifying threats. Moving along the edge like someone who knows exactly what kind of room she just walked into.
Most people here are either predators pretending to be civilized, or prey pretending they belong. She's neither.
She knows she doesn't belong. And she's here anyway.
That takes either desperation or courage.
Either way, I want to know which.
"Who is that?" I ask.
Leo follows my gaze. "No idea. Want me to find out?"
I watch her as she approaches someone near the bar, tentative, professional. The curator barely glances at her before turning away. She tries again with someone else. Same result.
She's being dismissed. Ignored. And I can see the moment she realizes it. Her shoulders tighten. Her jaw sets.
But she doesn't leave.
Smart.
"No," I say slowly. "Not yet."
Because for the first time in longer than I can remember, I'm curious.
And curiosity is so much more interesting than boredom.