Page 36 of Dark Breaker

Makes me wonder if I’m making the right choice with this whole wedding fiasco.

When we finally arrive, we meet Angela’s brothers Salvatore and Michelangelo at the entrance. They’re smoking cigarettes.

“Are Leonardo and Natalia already here?” Angela asks them.

“They’re inside with papa,” Salvatore replies.

I meet my own brothers inside and we hang out near the cocktail station. I grab a shot glass of vodka, figuring I’ll need it, and down it in its entirety.

“Nervous much?” Stefano asks.

I look at my older brother. “Is it that obvious?”

“Just a little,” he replies.

I scan the crowd, looking for Fabio, but haven’t seen him yet. I spot Angela’s father Giovanni Amato mingling with the best of them. He’s talking to the current mayor, who introduces him to someone I don’t recognize.

“Who’s that?” I ask Stefano.

“Chief of Police,” he replies. “We need him to support our candidate.” I notice he uses the words “our candidate” instead of “Fabio’s candidate.” Guess he’s happy about this alliance, too. As are all my brothers, no doubt.

I spot Angela’s older sister talking to a man not far from them. “And him? The one Natalia’s flirting with?”

“That would be the assessor of Palermo Province,” he replies. “We’ll also need his support.”

“There she is,” a cool voice says from beside me.

It’s Fabio.

I glance at him. He looks devilishly handsome in a black tuxedo and bow-tie tonight. His curly hair is pinned into a tight bun at the back of his head, all the better to showcase his perfectly chiseled features.

“No kiss for your future husband?” he asks.

I give him a quick peck on the cheek and he seems pleased. He smells good. A mixture of cologne and aftershave.

“Where’s the dress I told you to wear?” he asks.

“You didn’t tell me to wear a thing,” I respond.

“I left a note inside the package. Didn’t you read it?”

I shrug. “Didn’t even open the package.”

I ignore the anger shining in his eyes. He’ll get over it.

“Where’s our candidate?” I ask, standing on tiptoes for a moment as I survey the room.

Fabio sighs, then nods toward the far side of the room, where a rather small, balding man is holding court with several men and women. He has a thick, straggly beard, which seems at odds with his otherwise perfectly fitted suit.

“His name is Filippo Vicari,” Fabio says.

“He looks so small and scruffy,” I tell him. “Well, except for the suit.”

“He does that on purpose,” Fabio replies. “He wants to seem weak and oily so that people think they can control him. They’ll be in for a surprise after he’s voted into office, when they realize he’s not so malleable and his promises to them are forgotten.”

“But not his promises to us,” I add.

Fabio nods. “He’s afraid of the mafia. For good reason.” He pauses. “By the way, even though you didn’t wear my dress, you look beautiful tonight.”