Chapter 2 - The Mask SlipsThe tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a blade. Allessandro slowly stood up from his chair, pulling his dark gray suit jacket over his broad shoulders. Standing six-foot-three, his presence dominated the entire room.
"Emma," Allessandro said, without breaking eye contact with his fiancée. "Go to the kitchen. Take your mother and step into my private office. Wait for me there."
Emma didn't need to be told twice. She squeaked out a tiny, "Yes, sir," snatched her cloth, and scurried out of the dining room as fast as her small legs could carry her.
Once the double doors clicked shut behind the child, Isabella forced a soft, airy laugh. "Allessandro, what is going on with you today? You're acting so intense. It's just a piece of bread."
"It's never just bread, is it?" Allessandro walked slowly around the long table. Each step was deliberate, silent, dangerous. "Tell me, Isabella. How are things with your brother Antonio?"
Isabella’s breath hitched. "Antonio? He's fine, I suppose. Managing the docks in Brooklyn. Why do you ask?"
"Because Antonio lost twelve million dollars in a botched drug shipment last month," Allessandro murmured, stopping just a foot away from her. "He owes the Moretti family. And the Morettis want blood—or they want control of the Romano empire."
Isabella’s cheeks lost all their rosy color. "Allessandro, I don't get involved in family business, you know that—"
"I know you like luxury," Allessandro interrupted, his voice dropping to a low growl. "I know you like the ring on your finger. And I know that if I die before we get married, my secondary estate passes directly to my betrothed through the trust we signed last month."
"Are you accusing me of something?" Isabella snapped, trying to summon indignation, but her trembling hands betrayed her. "After everything we've built? You're letting paranoia consume you!"
"I don't suffer from paranoia. I suffer from betrayal," Allessandro said smoothly. He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out a black silk handkerchief, and bent down to scoop up the buttery toast from the marble floor. He wrapped it neatly and placed it into his pocket. "We're going to have our house doctor analyze this butter, Isabella."
Isabella’s confidence completely dissolved, replaced by a sudden, desperate panic. "Allessandro, please—"
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"If it's clean, I will apologize on my knees and buy you whatever jewelry you desire," Allessandro said, his eyes pitch-black with fury. "But if there is even a trace of poison in this... you won't make it to our wedding day."
He turned his back on her and walked out of the room, leaving Isabella standing alone in the golden morning light, her face pale as a corpse.
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