Page 63 of Violent God

“Damn, Ace. Couldn’t even wait until the meeting was over?”

Alessandro laughs, showing off his teeth. “Fuck off, Brooks.”

Oh my gosh. That’s where I know this man from. It’s Brooks the Body McGruff, the wrestler turned actor.

He turns to me, smiling. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Isabetta. It is okay to call you Isabetta, right?”

“Of course.”

“Brooks. Brooks Henderson.” He snorts. “Though more people know me by my alternate ego.”

I hold out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Alessandro puts his hand on my waist and asks, “Have they started?”

“They’re seating everyone for dinner.” Brooks frowns. “We’re at different tables, which shouldn’t be that surprising, I guess, but still sucks.”

Alessandro says to me, “Brooks is at a table with the other alternates. We’ve sat together for years now. This is the first meeting where we haven’t been seated by each other.”

Brooks slaps Alessandro on the shoulder. “And now Ace here is all high and mighty and has to sit with the other Elite Members. Speaking of, did you ever find out what this shindig is all about?”

Alessandro says, “Not yet, but I haven’t even made it inside.”

“True. Well, you’ll let me know, won’t you?”

“Of course.”

Brooks grins. “Good. Now, let’s get inside before Zhang and Blanc’s heads start to spin.”

Alessandro makes a motion for Brooks to go first, and we follow.

“I like him,” I whisper. “He’s nice.”

“Don’t let him hear you say that. It’ll just go to his head.”

“I heard that,” Brooks says, glancing over his shoulder with a wink.

It’s easy to see why Brooks is the Face of the Brotherhood. He’s charismatic—magnetic, even—and you find yourself just wanting to be his friend. There’s a bit of sadness in his eyes, even when he smiles, making me think that things aren’t always what they seem.

Inside the convention space, I stop. Holy cow. There are so many people here. More so than that, people I recognize. Actors. Politicians. Activists. Businessmen. Alessandro gives my hand a squeeze. I smile at him in thanks. As we walk, people nod their heads at my husband. I knew he said he was an Elite Member, but now I’m seeing just what that means. He’s important. Like, really important. Some of the most powerful men in the world are in this room, and they’re showing respect to Alessandro. I move closer to him as we walk. I can do this. I can do anything with him at my side.

Brooks says, “This is where we part. Find me for a drink later, Ace. Isabetta, do you drink?”

“Not much, but I never say no to good conversation.”

“Even better. See you two soon.”

He heads to a table where I spot a politician who’s rumored to be running for president next term. There are others at the table who I’ve seen on TV or on gossip websites. Good lord. How is this even real?

Alessandro says, “We’re over here.”

The table he’s gesturing toward sits away from the others at the head of the room. It feels intentional, like whoever is at this table is more important than every other person in the room. The table is full except for two seats that I assume are for me and Alessandro.

An older man says, “Moretti. About time you showed up.”

“Blanc,” Alessandro greets, but it’s not friendly.

I don’t think anyone else notices, but I do. And I take note. Blanc is someone not to trust, which I had already gathered before he even spoke. He’s one of those powerful men who gives off the creepy vibe. Like, if he caught you alone, he’d definitely trysomething.

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