Chapter 6 - The Glass Room
Saturday evening arrived with the stifling, humid heat typical of a New Orleans autumn. The grand estate of the Sartorii family—a sprawling neoclassical mansion overlooking Lake Pontchartrain—glowed with thousands of imported fairy lights strung through the ancient live oaks. Expensive cars lined the circular drive, disgorging politicians, high-ranking businessmen, and syndicate capos draped in diamonds and tailored Italian wool.
Alessio Barone stepped out of his black Mercedes wearing a bespoke midnight-blue tuxedo, his posture rigid and commanding. Beside him stepped Camila, radiant in severe black velvet and emeralds, acting as the impenetrable shield of the Barone legacy.
Waiting at the grand double doors to receive them was Dominic Sartorii—a heavy-set man with silver hair and cold, predatory eyes—and standing right beside him was Bianca.
Bianca Sartorii looked breathtaking. She wore a champagne-colored silk gown that shimmered under the crystal chandeliers, her hair styled in an intricate, classic chignon. Her smile was warm, practiced, and entirely devoid of warmth.
"Alessio, my boy," Dominic greeted, his voice dripping with false joviality as he extended a hand. "Welcome. We were beginning to wonder if business at your docks would keep you from our little celebration."
Alessio shook his hand, his grip firm enough to make the older man’s smile twitch. "Business is always under control, Dominic. My apologies for the delay. Securing our borders takes precedence."
Bianca stepped forward, her dark eyes locking onto Alessio with calculated affection. "Good evening, Alessio. You look severe tonight. I hope our hospitality isn't going to be treated like a board meeting."
"Good evening, Bianca," Alessio replied smoothly, leaning down to lightly kiss her cheek. "Hospitality is always appreciated, provided the terms are clear."
As they entered the grand ballroom, the string quartet swelled, and the elite of the city turned to watch the future king and queen of the New Orleans underworld take their place. To anyone watching, it was the picture-perfect union of two dynasties cementing a permanent peace.
Yet, inside, Alessio felt nothing. The flat stretch of silence that always accompanied Bianca’s presence was deafening. He poured champagne from a passing silver tray, handed a glass to Bianca, and smiled for the cameras while his mind replayed the sharp, defiant look May Ridley had given him in the garden.
"My father wants to finalize the wedding date by the end of next month," Bianca murmured quietly as they stepped onto the dance floor, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. "He believes a public union will put an end to the recent... unpleasantness at your canal depot."
Alessio’s steps didn't miss a beat. He looked down at her, his expression an impenetrable mask. "Her father assumes a great deal about my calendar, Bianca. Unpleasantness at the canal is handled on my terms, not his."
May you like
Bianca’s smile faltered for just a fraction of a second, her eyes narrowing slightly. She was smart enough to hear the underlying threat. "Be careful, Alessio. Pride is a dangerous thing when you're standing at the altar."
"I've survived worse than pride," Alessio replied coldly.
