I turn away almost angrily, trying to refocus on my work, but when I take a breath and look around the room, my eyes travel almost of their own accord, right to Raffi DeLuca, on the other side of the room.
He gives me a curious look, and I stop dead, listening to my own breath as it comes faster and faster. And then he smiles, his dimples flashing, and gives me a little nod. My heart does some strange flip-flop that I've never felt it do before, and I find myself smiling back.
A small smile, but it gets a little bigger as I start walking toward him. I want to…I don't even know. I want to hear his voice. Want to hear him teasing me, want to look into his face and have him look at me like?—
But I'm stopped by the tinkling of silverware on crystal, and as the room grows quiet, waiting for Don Castellani to speak, I move to one side and lose sight of Raffi.
CHAPTER 10
DARIAN
Sandro setsdown his champagne glass and the silver teaspoon he used to tap against it, giving the room a moment to hush as he takes center stage to address the room. Like Roxanne Rochford's entrance, his presence is enough to silence the guests.
"I'd like to welcome you all to Redwood Manor and extend my gratitude to our special guest tonight, Mr. Tony Clemenza, who has graciously agreed to mediate the parley."
Polite, scattered applause follows his words, and Clemenza raises his glass toward Sandro. But as the Don continues, my gaze wanders. My heart lurches when I spot Raffi again in a shadowed corner of the room, his eyes still on me.
Time seems to stop. I can't read his face, his thoughts, but I want to. Oh, I want to. As Don Castellani's speech comes to an end, I tear my gaze away, the lingering connection with Raffi leaving me slightly disoriented. I scan the room, trying to find my composure again, only to find Tony Clemenza staring hard at me.
"One last thing," Sandro says, and now I do give him my attention. "We are none of us friends, but we are all bound by our oaths. Every man here tonight took a vow to uphold the peace of the parley. As men of honor I expect no violence and no trouble during the process. There will be severe consequences otherwise."
"Damn straight," AJ says firmly, but the way he's glaring at Sandro suggests he thinks Sandro will be the one most likely to commit any violence.
As for Gino, he says nothing.
Right after Sandro Castellani has finished and conversation has started up again, I'm approached by Tony Clemenza. "You," he says, ignoring the men who try to catch his attention. "You're the butler, huh?"
"Yes, sir," I reply, forcing a polite smile. I'm the one who greeted him at the door, after all. "My name is Darian. How may I help you?"
"I want a cocktail," he says, leaning in closer than necessary. His presence is imposing, and I have no choice but to meet his eyes. "Martini, extra dry. I want you to make it for me."
One of our staff members is working as a specially-purposed bartender tonight, but whatever a guest wants, a guest gets. "Of course, Mr. Clemenza. At once." I'm almost successful at keeping the tremble out of my voice.
I back away from him, make my way to the wet bar at the side of the room and begin preparing the drink. But he follows me, still staring hard, though not with the creepy interest of Donnie Russo. No, Clemenza seems almost…angry. My hands shake ever so slightly as I pick out the bottles and begin preparing it.
As I work on the cocktail, I glance around the room, looking for Raffi instinctively. My anxiety only intensifies as I see muttering groups in corners exchanging furtive glances across the room, others glaring at sworn enemies, a hissing sound now and then suggesting angry whispers.
It's the first time I've thought about what might happen if this parley fails.
I shake off the sensation, reminding myself that I'm here to do a job. My mind drifts back to Raffi, his instruction to call for him if I feel under threat. But Clemenza, intense though he may be, has not threatened me. I wonder how Raffi thinks the night is going, if he worries about a diplomatic breakdown between the factions. He argued hard for various security measures during the preparations, and right now, I'm glad he did. I've never been more aware that Redwood Manor is filled with murderers.
"Here you are, Mr. Clemenza," I say, handing him the carefully prepared martini. "Extra dry, as you requested."
"Thank you," he replies after a testing sip, his eyes still studying me with unnerving intensity. "You're quite the perfectionist, aren't you? It's a rare quality these days."
"I try my best to provide excellent service."
He grunts, nods, and then turns away from me, leaving me feeling relieved but…afraid.
I've never felt afraid at Redwood before.
Tonight is merely a welcomesoiree. There is no sit-down dinner, finger-foods only, which Chef and I both argued for, and by the time things are winding down, I'm thankful we won that argument. The guests begin to trickle out of the grand salon around midnight, but the last of them are there until well after two o'clock—the ones who are staying at the estate during the proceedings. That includes AJ Bernardi and a handful of his men, including his advisor, Donnie Russo, and I'm already worried about the demands they've made on staff during the brief time they've been here.
Gino and Roxy are also staying with a small entourage, including Monkeys Scignatti as Gino's Consigliere. Gino is also keeping some bodyguards with him and his fiancée, including the man known as Chops Lollo, that huge slab of rock who's been on Roxy's heels all night.
Exhaustion is starting to catch up with me. I've been awake and working hard for almost twenty-four hours, and my legs are heavy, eyes burning as I bid the very last of the guests goodnight and ensure those staying at the Manor have an escort to their rooms so they don't lose their way in the twists and turns of the house.
The last of my energy dissipates along with the scattering guests, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. All I want is to retreat to the safety of my quarters and sleep, but I need to oversee the cleaning and preparations for tomorrow. The staff has gone home—very few house staff members ever remain on the grounds overnight, due to security concerns—and while they have cleaned and tidied, I want to check over everything, make sure it's perfect for the new day.
