"Absolutely, Don Castellani," Gino answers without hesitation. "AJ has no place among our ranks any longer. He's a disgrace to the Bernardi name."
"Good. For now, return to the party, all of you. Not a word about this gets out until I have made the way clear. You all understand?"
I don't. Not really. It seems awful tenuous to me, and obviously to Jack, too. But the result is hardly surprising. AJ Bernardi's been a dead man walking for a long, long time.
So we all murmur our agreement, and file out of the bedroom and back into the party. I scan the crowd and find Darian at the bar, chatting easily with some celebrity as he hands her a cocktail. Just seeing him safe helps calm me down.
Whatever else happens tonight, at least I can keep him safe.
I make my way over to him, sliding an arm around his waist. He startles, then relaxes into my touch. "Everything alright?" he murmurs.
"For now. You've been keeping the guests happy, I see."
"As best I can." Darian glances over my shoulder at Sandro and Jack, who are conferring together, head leaning in to keep the conversation quiet. "What is it? What did Don Castellani decide?"
"You'll find out soon enough. Focus on the party tonight."
He knows better than to argue. "Is there anything else I can do to help?"
I glance around the room, taking in the clusters of guests. Most seem engrossed in conversation or dancing, but a few glance our way with curious looks.
"Keep circulating like you have been," I say quietly. "But stay close to me when you can. And be on your guard. I'll keep Oz on you as well." Darian nods, though I can tell he's still concerned.
My gaze falls on Roxy across the room, Gino Bernardi whispering in her ear. Even from here I can see the triumph in her eyes.
So much for Sandro's command ofnot a word.
Darian whispers a goodbye before he melts into the crowd. I watch him go, relieved to see Santarelli close on his tail. With two of us on Darian, I can be sure he's safe.
And I gotta say, I'm impressed Darian is being so chill about the stains on his tux. He's only brushed at it five times that I've seen so far, but for the most part, he's keeping his chin up and playing a perfect part.
Playing a part…
The idea strikes me, sticks in my head. The music and laughter seem distant, muffled. Surreality blankets everything, as if I'm watching a play unfold before me, and I'm stuck in a bad seat.
I've felt this way before. A few times, in fact, over the last few months. Felt like there was just something notrealabout it all, something a little too staged.
If thisisa stage show, I have no idea anymore who the actors are—or what roles they might be playing. But as the laughter and chatter of the party rings hollow in my ears, I wonder…
What danger might be waiting in the wings?
CHAPTER 45
DARIAN
Two daysafter Julian and Leo's housewarming, there's still an air of anticipation in the Manor, some kind of electricity, like just before a storm breaks. I attend to my duties as usual, but find myself straightening vases that are not crooked and plumping already-fat cushions.
No news has come down from Don Castellani yet, according to Raffi. But even the house staff sense something is coming, and they seem to walk on tiptoe, shooting furtive glances at each other and speaking in whispers.
My heart beats in tandem with the ticking of the clock in the grand salon as I count down the minutes until my agreed meetup with Raffi for our lunch break. When the time comes, though, I can't seem to find him. He said he'd meet me in the foyer, but…
With a frown, I head upstairs to the security room, but only Mr. Pedretti and the usual house guards are there. "He's in that east wing room again," Mr. Pedretti says when I ask, "staring at that damn wardrobe like it's bewitched him." He gives a bemused shake of the head. "See if you can pull him away, will you? I don't like him brooding too much."
My heart gives a little lurch at the mention of Raffi and that suite. Part of me wishes he'd just drop it. Especially now that the real killer seems to have been revealed. Because if Clemenza and Chops weren't killed on AJ's orders, why would he then send someone into the grounds during the party the other night?
I head to the room, knocking lightly on the door though it's already ajar, and push it open. Inside, it's dim and quiet, but there's Raffi, one hand braced on the wardrobe as he studies the wood grain.
I don't think he even heard my knock. "Raffi?"
