Page 11 of Thin Lines (Donati Bloodlines 2)

She was just making it clear.

“Does everyone have a glass of wine or champagneready?” Affonso asked, his voice traveling over the crowd of gathering guests.

Confirmative murmurs echoed back, answering Affonso’squestion. Two servers handed out red wine in crystal glasses to the few peoplewho didn’t have a drink in hand. Calisto happened to be one of them. Heaccepted the glass offered, but set it aside the moment the server turnedaround.

He didn’t want to drink tonight.

Calisto stayed at the back of the room, secluded inhis own little corner. That was usually his way with functions like these, whenthe men of la famiglia and their wives were invited. It was better toobserve the people than to mingle with them. He preferred to have his positionand status recognized, and not have his kindness mistaken for weakness.

Trust was a beautiful myth in Cosa Nostra.

At the front of the room, Affonso held his hand out inEmma’s direction, waiting for her to take it with her own. She did, smilingfalsely as her gaze turned to a spot on the wall where an elaborate painting ofthe New York skyline rested below a spotlight.

The heavy feeling was back on Calisto’s shoulders,pressing down into his stomach and making him wish the floor would open up. Somethingwas off—something he wouldn’t like.

Cynthia settled in beside her cousin as Affonso raisedhis glass high. “Hey, Cal.”

“Cynthia,” he said, bumping her with his shoulder.

“You’re all alone.”

“Yep.”

“Didn’t bring a date?”

Calisto scoffed. “I don’t have time for women.”

They cause too many problems.

“Sure you don’t.” Cynthia eyed the glass of wine onthe table beside Calisto. “Can I have that if you’re going not going to drinkit?”

Calisto shrugged. “Go for it. Don’t let Affonso seeit.”

“Daddy is too focused on his news tonight.”

“And Emma, it seems,” Calisto noted.

Cynthia didn’t seem to notice the hint of bitternessin Calisto’s words. “Her, too.”

She plucked up the glass and took a large gulp of redwine, earning quiet laughter from Calisto.

“Hey, slow down.”

“Not my first time drinking, Cal.”

“I would rather pretend it was,” he told her. “You’reonly sixteen.”

“Almost seventeen.”

“For my sake, can you lie a little?”

Cynthia grinned wickedly. “Do you really want me to?”

“No,” he admitted.

“Didn’t think so.”

Affonso’s droning drawl brought Calisto back to thepresent. He gave his attention to his uncle, wishing this night could be overalready. He tried not to focus on Emma at Affonso’s side, and instead listenedto the words his uncle was saying.