Page 27 of The Bonventi Hitman

Luca hands me a wad of cash and motions to one of the tables where a few others are sitting. "Why don't you grab a seat, Sofia? Enzo and I have some business to discuss. I will come find you soon."

I nod and walk over to take an empty seat. The game is already in progress, and the players barely acknowledge my arrival. I look down at the cash and notice he's given me $2200. I take $1000 and put it in my purse. I don't know what for, but I don't have access to anything, so this will be a nice little nest. I give the dealer the remaining amount, and he slides a stack of chips across to me.

I'm dealt in, and I pick up my cards and try to focus on the game while also keeping an ear out for any valuable information. A smirk comes across my face because I catch myself trying to play poker, a game I've never played before and have no idea what the fuck is going on.

I glance around, carefully observing everyone. I notice there's some tension in the room, like a light layer of fog that's settled over everyone. The mobsters try their best to maintain a facade of civility, but it's clear something's going on.

I shift my attention back to the game, focusing on the cards in my hand. I fold because that's something I know you do in poker.

As the players finish their hand, a sudden connection clicks in my mind. I notice that a few of these men are ones I've seenbefore in the case files, but they aren't Italian—men from the Greek and Polish mafia are here, too.

Why would the smaller families be here? Are the Irish here?

I search the room and see no Irish.

What could that mean?

The last time I was in a room with different mafia families, bad things happened.

"Ma'am... Ma'am," the dealer calls out to me, "are you in this hand?"

I can tell I'm slowing the game, and the players are looking at me a little anxious, so I grab the rest of my chips. "No, thank you. Think it's time for a break."

I stand and walk over to the bar.

"Champagne, please."

I take a sip when there's a loud commotion behind me. Two men enter into a heated exchange of words. They glare at each other, their hands hovering dangerously close to their weapons. The room falls silent, and I hear Enzo's voice.

"Tony, what the fuck are you doing? Take a walk."

"But boss, I..."

"Take a fucking walk," Enzo commands.

The man scoffs before turning and leaving.

"My apologies, please continue," Enzo says, and with that, the room is set in motion again.

Luca comes over to me, and we chat for a bit while he strokes my arm and does a poor job of flirting.

As he's ordering me another glass of champagne, I hear some yelling near the entrance. An older, slender woman in an elegant black dress storms into the room, her eyes scanning the crowd frantically. She's beautiful, with dark hair and a fiery determination in her eyes.

"Where is he?" she asks someone.

"Isabella, calm down, please," someone says to her.

"Fuck you, where is he?"

I see Luca straighten up. "Ah, shit," he says in a low tone.

"Luca!" Isabella screams, her voice loud and unhinged. She walks with a purpose toward us and points a manicured finger at me, her eyes filled with rage. "Who the fuck is this bitch? You promised me you were done with the whores!"

I feel the warmth of embarrassment take hold of me as the attention of the entire room focuses on me. I feel my face turning red, but I force myself to maintain my composure.

Luca takes a step forward, his face serious and intense. "Isabella, you need to leave," he commands.

She laughs, a bitter and twisted sound that mocks Luca's response. "Leave? Leave? No, you need to leave. Fucking tell me who?—"