Page 30 of Iron Blade

I laughed so hard the other restaurant patrons glared in our direction. I hadn’t been expecting that. We’d have to add that to the list of rumors we had.

“I’m not kidding,” Cosa whispered, reaching a hand out to grab mine. “I heard that he took someone’s blood and turned it into red paint. They say he hides evidence of his crime in his paintings, then sells them at your gallery!”

She looked around, as if worried that someone had heard this insane tale.

“Oh, come on. That’s from a movie!” I rolled my eyes. “The Red Violin. The original violin maker’s wife died in childbirth, and he used her blood and hair to make his final violin, and it’s told from the literal story of the instrument as it passes through time.”

Paint made from blood… what complete nonsense. Some things were just too salacious to possibly be true.

“So?” She took her hand back, straightening in her seat, obviously annoyed that I didn’t believe her.

I’m sure that wasn’t a common occurrence in her world. Cosima wasn’t just a Mafia heiress - a fact we never talked about - but she was a graduate of Yale Law School. She was a partner at her godfather’s firm, and they were known as ruthless negotiators.

There was nothing soft about this princess - a fact that I greatly admired, but also resented.

She knew more about what was happening in her family business, and I hadn’t been able to pry the information out of her.

“So?” I wiped my face, taking my own wine glass in hand. “These stories are totally made up!”

I took a deep pull, amused that the dark red wine matched my lipstick. No wine-lips for me!

“I don’t think so.” Her nostrils flared with her irritation. “He and his father are psychopaths. They’ll stop at nothing to get what they want.”

I felt the opening - the small crack I could exploit.

“And what do they want?” I asked, my eyes wide with curiosity.

I was a damn fine actress, if I do say so myself.

But, just like that, Cosima plastered over the small crack, repairing it before I could get a foothold.

“What all businessmen want…” Her eyes glanced to the ground. She was obviously lying. It fascinated me that, despite being a lawyer, she wasn’t actually a good liar. “More money, I guess.”

She took a quick drink, and then changed the subject.

“How did you guys meet?” Her eyes flicked back to me.

Was she turning the tables and trying to interrogate me on her enemy? I smirked at that… spy games were fun, when your life wasn’t on the line.

“At the gallery, of course.” I put my glass down on the table, twisting the stem. “How did you meet him?”

Uno reverse!

“Well, we haven’t met exactly…” She flushed at her confession.

“You’ve never met him, and you hate him this much?” Come on, Cosima… give me something. “What did he do? Piss in your wheaties?”

The waiter came by and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, miss, but we don’t have any of the Rosé you ordered–”

“Then you better get in a cab and get a bottle of what I ordered,” Cosima said with narrowed eyes.

“Ma’am, I can't just leave—”

“Yes you can.” Cosima leaned forward, placing her sharp elbow on the white linen sheet. “I’m Cosima Durante. I want what I want.”

The man visibly trembled in fear. “Y-Yes, ma’am.”

Ah, the absolute power these people had over us little folk. Their name alone was a fucking threat.

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