"Probably the wine." I pull out my credit card, hand it to the approaching waiter. "We should call it a night anyway. Bianca has work in the morning."
Patterson returns a few minutes later, a wad of tissues pressed to his ear, his face gray. He won't meet my eyes.
"Are you all right, dear?" Nancy reaches for him. "You look awful."
"I'm fine. Just—I need to go home."
"Of course." I stand, help Bianca with her chair. "It was lovely meeting you both. I hope we can do this again sometime."
The lie is smooth, practiced. Patterson knows we'll never have dinner again. That he's living on borrowed time now, counting down the hours until he either cooperates or dies.
We say our goodbyes—Nancy clutches Bianca's hand, Patterson can barely stand—and then we're walking out into the cool Manhattan night.
Tony's waiting with the car and when I open the door for Bianca, she slides in without a word, her face pale in the streetlights.
I follow, and the door closes behind us.
Silence.
The car pulls away from the curb, and I can feel her eyes on me. The weight of her judgment, her fear, her dawning realization of exactly who I am.
"What did you do?" she asks finally, her voice barely above a whisper.
"What needed to be done."
"Dante—"
"He tried to warn the Corsettis. While we were sitting at dinner, eating dessert, he was texting the people who helped murder ten innocents. Setting up a call to betray me." I loosen my tie. "So, I stopped him."
"By hurting him."
"By making a point." I turn to face her. "I cut his ear. Not off, just enough to scar. Enough that everyone will know he crossed me and the Corsettis won't trust him anymore, so he'll have nowhere left to run."
Her face loses even more color. "You tortured a Congressman. In a restaurant."
"In a storage closet. Less messy." I watch her process this. "He made his choice, Bianca. I gave him an out. Three days to do the right thing. And he immediately tried to betray me. What did you expect me to do?"
"Not that!"
"Then you don't understand how this works." I lean back against the seat. "In my world, betrayal has consequences. Swift, painful consequences. If I let him make that call, the Corsettis would have known I was coming. They'd have disappeared, covered their tracks, maybe come after me first. Patterson had to be stopped."
"So you mutilated him."
"I sent a message." I keep my voice level, matter-of-fact. "Now Patterson knows I'm serious. Now he'll give me what I need. And everyone else who works with the Corsettis will hear about what happened and think twice before crossing the Romano family."
"You're insane." She's shaking now, hugging herself. "You're sitting here talking about cutting someone like it's—like it's nothing?—"
"It's strategy. Violence is a tool, Bianca. Just like information, just like money. I use what works."
"You're a monster."
"Yes." The admission is simple, honest. "I am. I've never claimed otherwise."
She stares at me, and I can see her trying to reconcile the man who bought her dresses with the man who just carved up a politician in a storage closet.
"I'm not a good guy," I continue. "Never was, never will be. I don't save people or fight for justice. I protect what's mine and I eliminate threats. That's it. That's all I've ever been."
"And if innocent people get hurt?"
