Page 114 of Dante

“I’ll let you both get settled,” I say and excuse myself before either can answer.

I find a quiet corner at the back of the ballroom to take my call.

I pace, phone pressed to my ear as my inside man updates me on the fallout from my museum speech.

The other families are getting nervous, exactly as I intended.

I can almost smell the cigar smoke through the phone as I picture the five old men sitting around their respective tables, discussing what to do about me.

To my face, all five families pledged their allegiance.

But my sources reveal that in truth, only three of the families are in alignment. Two are not.

And Silvio is the wild card stirring them all up.

The question of how to move against Silvio without fracturing our infrastructure requires patience and diplomacy.

I watch Gina talking to fellow classmates as they find their seats in anticipation of the awards ceremony.

Every few minutes, she scans the crowd until she finds me. When our eyes meet, her smile changes.

It’s not the bright, eager one she shares with her classmates. Instead it’s more private. A small curve of her lips meant just for me.

The lights lower, so I slip out into the lobby before the ceremony begins.

An hour later, I am still on the call when the applause starts.

I sense the winner has been announced. I quickly end the call and move back into the room.

By the time I reach Gina, she’s surrounded by well-wishers.

She spots me over someone’s shoulder and mouths the words across the noise. “I won.”

I make a small sign of applause. Just for her.

The staff scurry, and soon the chairs have been folded away and the reception begins.

Champagne appears. The room loosens.

Gina finds me at the edge of the crowd, Biscotti trotting beside her on his leash.

“Where were you?” she asks.

“The call ran long. I told you it might.”

“You missed the whole ceremony.”

“I saw what mattered.”

She considers this, likely deciding whether to be annoyed. “I’ll forgive you.”

“Generous,” I say.

She almost laughs. Biscotti nudges her high-heeled foot.

My phone vibrates, and I glance at the screen.

“Dante.” Her voice has an edge now.