“Will be pulled to the scene of a bank heist before you get there,” he explains in hushed tones. “One or two might linger, but if they do, we’ll get their cameras after you head into the hotel and destroy them. Phillip and his team are on standby, and they’ll remove anything that might pop up online.”
The last thing I want is this farce of an engagement party being reported or any photos of Saskia on my arm in existence anywhere. I also don’t want press attention when things kick off because I’d like to survive this night without ending up in police custody. The police commissioner—a VIP member of several of my clubs and a close acquaintance—has assured me he will have his men diverted to the bank robbery, but I can’t rule out some do-gooder cop with his eye on a promotion stumbling onto events and trying to do the right thing.
“And Brando?” I ask, glancing surreptitiously at the driver. We vet all staff, but I’m extra vigilant at the moment, and I don’t want to say anything obvious.
“Has the diamond.”
Closing my eyes, I sigh in relief, offering up thanks to a God I long stopped believing in. All week, I have prayed and prayed, offered everything under the sun if this goes off as planned. “Good.”
“Benny!” Natalia rushes out of the house, racing down the steps, and flings herself into my arms. “Be careful.”
She isn’t privy to the facts, but she knows it’s going down now. Technically, she should be at my engagement party with her husband. The rest of the New York dons will be there with their wives, but I need her to stay with Rowan, and I want my sister out of the line of fire.
They are barricading themselves in my safe room, along with Frank, and they know not to open the door to anyone. It’s an enclosed, secure, impenetrable, fire-retardant space, the size of a luxury suite, with all the amenities they could need. No one can reach them in there, which is why I’ve had Angelo and Ruthie rehoused for the night too. I won’t take any risks. Although I’ve been super careful to hide my tracks and I’ve played my part with Giuseppe and Saskia, I wouldn’t put it past DeLuca to have a backup plan should I attempt anything tonight.
Natalia has lined up a movie, and she has popcorn and candy. Rowan is excited, and I love seeing a smile on his face again. They have been lacking these past six days. He dragged me into the room before I left to show me the tent with sleeping bags.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Thank you for taking care of Rowan.”
“Bring her home safely, Benny,” she says with tears in her eyes.
“I promise I will.”
Even if I have to die tonight, I will ensure Sierra gets out of this alive.
53
BEN
“Where are the rest of the reporters?” Saskia huffs, pressing her haughty nose to the window of the limo as we pull up in front of the hotel. Three men with cameras linger on the red-carpeted steps, straightening up as the driver kills the engine at the curb.
“Maybe this isn’t as newsworthy as you imagined it would be,” I say, running low on patience reserves.
She’s been pawing at me from the second I picked her up at her hotel, and I’m glad I had the foresight to book a hotel room only five blocks from here so I didn’t have to endure her insufferable presence for longer than necessary. All I can visualize when I look at her plastic face and her plastic body, poured into a hideous sickly sweet pink gown, is how she hurt my Firefly, and I want to strangle her with my bare hands after slicing strips from her overstretched skin.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snaps, adding more gloss to her enlarged lips. “This is the announcement of the century.”
She truly believes that. She is batshit crazy, I have come to realize. I used to think she was just bitter and jealous, but whatever insanity gene runs in the DeLuca blood has clearly infected her too. If what Giuseppe said is true, at least Sierra has dodged that bullet.
“How do I look?” she asks, thrusting her fake chest in my face. If the dress was any lower at the front, her nipples would be on display. Saskia used to dress elegantly, back when we were dating, but there is nothing elegant or classy about her now. She is as fake and tacky as they come.
“Like one of those Kardashians.” I plaster a faux smile on my face while she tries to work out if my statement is a compliment or an insult. The driver opens my door, and I get out, leaning down to offer her my arm even though my skin crawls every time she touches me.
I only have another couple of hours of faking, so I can stomach the charade for a little longer.
She clutches my arm, preening and pouting for the waiting cameramen as we walk into the hotel.
It takes enormous effort to act lovingly toward my supposed fiancée and to laugh and joke with her father as we enjoy a sumptuous meal in the ballroom of one of the finest hotels in New York, but I do it because I can’t tip him off. He’s watching me like a hawk, and an offhand look or glint of anger would give the game away.
Around me are two hundred guests I hope won’t get caught in the crosshairs. A few of my men have been tasked with discreetly ushering guests outside, in small groups, just before this kicks off, but we can’t evacuate the entire room without sounding alarm bells.
I have chosen my guests carefully and vetted all of them on DeLuca’s side. Everyone here either has ties to The Outfit, is loyal to the New York dons, or they are clients of my establishments. The hotel owner is one of my best clients, and I send a ton of business his way. He will be compensated for any and all damage, and I’ll ensure no adverse press appears in the media about the hotel. That should be enough to assuage him and keep his silence.
No one will speak out about the events here today.
Unless they don’t value breathing.
Armed soldiers and bodyguards from The Outfit and the New Yorkfamigliassurround the room and mingle with the guests. Invisible tension ripples through the air, and the room silently groans in anticipation.
