Chapter 5

Lorenzo walked out without a backward glance. I ran my thumb over the jade pendant at my throat, and the tears slid down without a sound.

I thought that would be the end of it, but Vittoria had no intention of letting me off. That very night, the footage from the safe-house camera was cut, doctored, and pushed through every channel the underworld whispered along.

"They even brought out a whip. So this is what that kind of arrangement looks like? Look at the way she's enjoying it."

"How much a night, you think? Heard she used to run operations for some crew. Slept her way up, obviously."

Scrolling through all the filth being passed around, with harassing calls and messages pouring into my phone nonstop, I ground my teeth in fury.

A message surfaced on my screen: "Do you need me to handle the whispers?"

I turned it down. Burying it that quietly would only make people think I had something to hide. If I was going to move, I'd strip the masks off every one of them in front of the whole life.

I rested quietly at the safe house, letting the wound close, until the day of the sit-down, when I crossed paths with Lorenzo and Vittoria.

The moment they saw me, both of their faces registered surprise. But it wasn't the same kind. In Lorenzo's eyes there was a flash of being dazzled; in Vittoria's, nothing but jealousy.

I thought of how I looked tonight, dressed by a name half the city couldn't afford to whisper, the jewels on me the sort no amount of tribute could buy.

"Adriana, did you know we'd be here, so you slipped in? This is really too much. The Falcone Family is hosting this gala. If the Don learns someone walked in uninvited to spoil it, he'll be furious. And it would go badly if that anger settled on the Marchetti crew."

Vittoria wore a show of kindhearted concern, but the mud she flung landed on me first. Her smile held a half-second too long, her eyes flicking sideways toward the door before they returned.

Sure enough, Lorenzo's face darkened at once. He wet his lower lip, glanced toward the head of the room where the ranking men stood, then looked at me with displeasure and snapped:

"Get out of here, now. If someone catches you and throws you out, I won't be able to protect you, and you'll only humiliate yourself worse."

I watched the two of them sing their little duet, my expression unmoved.

"The Marchetti crew and I have nothing to do with each other anymore. Whatever I do won't touch the crew. Besides, I'm one of the invited guests."

Vittoria let out a snort of laughter, as if she'd heard a joke.

"Someone like you, worth an invitation? Adriana, don't tell me you crawled into some old boss's bed and begged him to bring you along."

She made no effort to lower her voice. In an instant, the eyes of the men and women across the hall settled on me, some curious, and more than a few who knew my face.

"Isn't she the woman from that footage going around a while back? You all seen it? Filthy stuff."

"That's Marchetti's man. What's the story between them?"

I ran my eyes over Vittoria, thought of what I was about to do, couldn't be bothered to trade words with her, and turned to leave.

But Lorenzo grabbed my arm, his eyes full of disappointment.

"Adriana Falcone, how can you throw away your dignity like this? You really can't live without a man? You standing here is dragging down this whole sit-down."

"I tried to talk sense into you and you wouldn't listen, so don't blame me for showing you no mercy."

I found it almost funny. What mercy was left between him and me?

Lorenzo called over the retainer running the floor and pointed at me as he gave the order:

"This woman has ugly intentions. She must have slipped in to ruin the gala. Throw her out right now."

"If the Don lays eyes on someone this filthy under his roof, every one of you could end up in serious trouble."

Lorenzo had a talent for phrasing a thing so it sounded like he was watching out for everyone. But just as he thought I was about to be dragged off in disgrace, the old man leaned both hands on his cane and went completely still. Then he turned to Lorenzo with a look that could have frozen the wine in the glasses.

"Signor Marchetti, mind your words. Miss Falcone is the host of this sit-down. Whoever heard of throwing out the host?"