Chapter 9
The tension on the terrace was practically vibrating. The donors, realizing they were trapped in the middle of a violent Mafia-style family coup, huddled closer together near the floral displays. Alina tightened her grip on Lucy, whispering soft, soothing words in the child's ear to quiet her crying. She trusted Lorenzo implicitly. He was a force of nature, and right now, he was a shield made of pure iron.
"Talk, Marcus," Lorenzo demanded, his large fighter's hand reaching down and grabbing Marcus by the lapel of his ruined navy suit. He hauled the younger man halfway off the floor, straining the fabric. "Who promised you protection?"
"It was... it was Dominic," Marcus choked out, blood bubbling on his lips. "He said if we got Alina out of the picture, he would secure the east coast ports for my division. He said you were too soft now, Lorenzo. He said the syndicate needed a younger head."
Lorenzo’s deep-set brown eyes went completely cold. Dominic was his own brother. A man who had sat at his table, eaten his food, and sworn loyalty to his new wife and child.
"Dominic," Lorenzo repeated, the name tasting like ash in his mouth. He dropped Marcus back into the broken glass with a look of pure disgust.
"He hates her, Lorenzo," Ramona added desperately, crawling forward slightly on the carpet, trying to bargain for her life. "He thinks Alina is manipulating you to hand over the family business to an outsider. He gave the order. We were just following his lead! Please, you have to believe me!"
"I believe you are a snake, Ramona," Lorenzo said quietly, turning his back on her. "And a snake only bites when it thinks it can get away with it."
Lorenzo looked at the bodyguards standing by the locked doors. "Get these two out of my sight. Lock them in the wine cellar downstairs. If either of them tries to run, break their legs."
"Yes, Mr. Carbone," the guards replied in unison, moving quickly across the terrace. They roughly hauled a weeping Ramona and a bleeding Marcus to their feet, dragging them toward a side exit that led down into the club's private subterranean levels.
May you like
Lorenzo turned to face the terrified crowd of donors. He smoothed the lapels of his elegant, well-tailored formal suit, pulling his broad shoulders back.
"I apologize for the interruption to our luncheon," Lorenzo addressed the crowd, his American accent smooth and terrifyingly calm. "Please, enjoy the rest of your afternoon. The doors will be unlocked shortly."
