“You too, Charles.”
Going through these formulaic rituals was calming to him, and I had no issue with it. It was such a simple, small thing to do.
As Steve walked off, I took some tissues to clean the platter around the cake, then used a little brush to polish the various berries. There. It looked absolutely perfect. I took some pictures with my phone. I’d have to text Zane to get some close-up photos as well, but these would be great if all else failed.
I’d stepped back to get one last picture from farther away when I heard voices. Angry voices. The angry male voice was cold as ice, but I recognized it immediately. Carlo, Gia’s fiancé.
Something about his voice made every hair on my arms stand up. It wasn’t mere anger—I’d heard plenty of angrycustomers over the years, and though I didn’t like it, they didn’t usually scare me. But this was something colder, more controlled, like a predator that had cornered its prey.
My body reacted before my brain could catch up, that primal instinct that screamed danger even when everything looked normal on the surface. I’d felt it when I’d met him, when Carlo had looked at me with those sharp, calculating eyes, but I’d dismissed it as wedding stress. Now, hearing that ice-cold tone, Solstice’s remarks flashed back into my brain:hitman.
When the voices came closer, I inched behind a curtain.
“Hartwell betrayed me.”
“So what will you do about it?”
I didn’t recognize the second man’s voice, but he sounded older.
The men stopped right in front of where I was hiding, their shadows falling across the gap in the curtain. My heart hammered against my ribs so hard I was sure it would give me away, and cold sweat slicked my palms as I pressed them against the wall behind me. Something primal and terrified clawed at my chest—every instinct I had screamed that if they discovered me here, listening to this, bad things would happen to me.
“He’s gonna take a nice, long swim in the Hudson, is what.”
My heart skipped a beat, then started racing so fast I felt dizzy. Carlo couldn’t mean that he’d actually…kill someone, right? That he’d murder whoever had betrayed him?
The words “swim in the Hudson” echoed in my head, and suddenly, every true-crime documentary I’d ever watched came flooding back. Bodies dumped in rivers. People who disappeared without a trace.
My mouth went bone dry as the horrifying reality sankin. I wasn’t listening to some guy blow off steam or make empty threats. This was real. Carlo was calmly discussing ending someone’s life like he was deciding what to order for lunch, and I was trapped here, an accidental witness to what sounded like a planned execution.
“Hartwell’s a cop. You take him out, the boys in blue are gonna come after you. Hard.”
A cop? Carlo wanted to kill a cop? Lord, have mercy, this wasn’t good.
“I know, but I can’t let this slide. I have to send a message, or every punk with a badge or a gun is gonna think he can fuck me over.”
In the long silence that followed, I stood frozen to the ground.
“And Gia?” the other man finally asked.
“What about her?”
“Renzo said she doesn’t know about any of it.”
Carlo snorted. “Of course she does. But she looks the other way as she should. She knows better than to get involved.”
“And if she does? If she finds out?”
“Then she’ll learn her place as my wife. I’m marrying her because of who her father is…and because she’s hot and a great fuck. The woman can give a blowjob like nobody else, lemme tell ya.”
“You shouldn’t talk that way about her. If Renzo finds out…”
“He’ll do what? He needs me far more than I need him, trust me. He’s dead broke after this wedding, and he’ll need my money to continue his lavish lifestyle. So I can talk about his daughter any way I want because there ain’t a goddamn thing he can do about it.”
“I don’t think you understand how Renzo?—”
“I don’t think you understand.” Carlo’s voice was cold as an ice dagger now. “I could tell Gia to suck off every man under my command, and her father wouldn’t be able to lift a fucking finger to stop it. In fact, I very well may order her to do just that if she gives me any lip. About time she learned some respect for me.”
Nausea rolled in my stomach at the images Carlo’s words conjured up, bile rising in my throat as I fought not to be sick right here behind this curtain. He was so much viler than I could’ve imagined—a monster wearing an expensive suit, talking about murdering a cop and degrading his own wife like he was discussing the weather.
