Page 29 of The Bonventi Hitman
"No, it's fine," I reply, trying to sound nonchalant.
Luca nods. "Isabella is...complicated. Our relationship is...complicated."
"It seems like it."
"Yes, she's my wife, but we have an understanding. I can't help but be drawn to beautiful women like you," he says and pulls me closer, his hand sliding a bit lower on my waist.
I smile, playing along.
"I appreciate the compliment."
Luca must sense my hesitation because he leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "Don't worry about her, Sofia. She's not important. You're the one I want to be with tonight."
"Is she gone?"
Luca's expression darkens for a moment, and he looks away.
"Yes. Well, she should be. I'm having her taken home."
I nod, unsure of what to say. I don't want to push it further, but I can't help feeling sympathy for Isabella. I suppose I knew he was probably married, but it's always different when you put a face to it.
I'm just playing a role. Hell, I haven't even fucked him and never will. I wish I could tell her that.
The song ends, and he smiles, "Now, let's go enjoy the rest of the event."
As we make our way back into the poker room, I sit next to Luca and watch as he plays.
He places his bet and the man sitting across does the same as he blows out a big cloud of smoke from his cigar.
"How's the thing with the guy?" the man smoking asks Luca.
I lean forward, pretending to adjust my dress while straining my ears to catch more of their conversation. The men seem oblivious to my eavesdropping as they're intently focused on their game.
"I tell you, Gio," Luca says, "he's been a loyal friend to the family. He's pulled their licenses, so we'll have that entire operation under control."
The men at the table laugh.
Licenses? What licenses?
Gio puffs on his cigar before replying, "A hefty payment but worth it to have that fucking Siberian freeze."
"Harry's good for it. It'll slow them down just enough for us to slide in. We'll make it back tenfold."
"I believe you. Those fuckin' city officials thought?—"
I can't believe what I'm hearing. They're talking about paying off a city official to seize control of something. And the Siberian must be Ivan Morozkin of the Russian family. Maybe Agent Harris or Russell can see what city licenses have recently been revoked and who a person named Harry is.
After some time sitting there, I realize I need to move to get more intel, and frankly, I'm bored just watching them play cards.
I excuse myself from Luca. "I'm just going to grab another drink, darling," I tell him, trying to sound sweet so he doesn't balk at me leaving. Thankfully, he doesn't even look up from his cards, merely waves a hand dismissively.
As I make my way to the bar, I notice the Greek mobster from earlier who had gotten into a confrontation with the youngItalian. He's leaning against the bar, deep in conversation with another man.
I order "water in a champagne glass" - a trick Bill taught me during training.
I take a sip of my "champagne" and move a little closer to a group of men talking.
"But why now? Why deal with us to take care of the Serb?" one of them asks, his tone firm and aggressive.
