Chapter 2 - The Taste of Arsenic and Champagne
Dante stormed back into the dining room, radiating an aura so venomous that two busboys immediately scrambled out of his path. The ambient chatter among the socialites died down to an uneasy whisper as he reached table twelve. Bianca was standing, clutching her designer crocodile clutch with trembling hands, her cheeks flushed with indignant rage.
""Dante! What is the meaning of this?"" Bianca hissed, her voice cutting through the soft jazz playing overhead. ""Who does that little hostess think she is? Managing partner? Calling herself your wife? You told me your marriage was a legal formality dissolved three years ago! You told me she was living in Europe!""
""Sit down, Bianca,"" Dante said, his voice flat, low, and laced with absolute authority.
""I will not sit down! My father has five councilmen on speed dial, Dante! He is funding your entire expansion into the Brooklyn piers! Do you think you can embarrass me in front of half the Upper East Side?""
Dante leaned across the table, his towering frame casting a shadow over her that drained the color right out of her face. ""Lower your voice before I forget who your father is. You wanted dinner at Bennett’s to show your friends you had me on a leash. You pushed for table twelve despite my warnings. You got your show. Now sit, finish your champagne, and keep your mouth shut until the car arrives.""
Bianca swallowed hard, terrified by the ruthless killer looking through her, and slid awkwardly back onto the plush leather banquette. Around them, cell phone cameras dipped down, but Dante knew the damage was done. The rumor mill in Manhattan moved faster than wire transfers. By midnight, every crime family from Queens to Chicago would know that Dante Romano had lost control of his own household.
Downstairs, Clare dialed a private number using a burner phone she kept in the back of her desk safe.
""Speak,"" answered a raspy, gravelly voice on the third ring.
""Mr. Moretti,"" Clare said smoothly.
A pause echoed over the line. Vincent Moretti, the aging underboss of the rival North Side family, chuckled darkly. ""Clare? To what do I owe the pleasure of the Romano queen gracing my frequency? Has your charming husband finally pushed his luck too far?""
""Vincent, you've wanted the Brooklyn dry docks for twenty years,"" Clare stated without prelude. ""You know Dante’s alliance with Foster Capital is the only barrier keeping your shipping containers out of the Atlantic.""
Moretti’s tone sharpened, dropping all traces of mockery. ""Go on.""
""Dante believes Foster Capital is clean money backing his legitimate fronts. He doesn't know what Bianca’s father actually does with those harbor bonds. Arthur Foster isn't just an investor, Vincent. He’s an FBI informant wearing a wire for the Southern District, setting Dante up for a federal RICO indictment to clear his own tax fraud.""
Vincent let out a low whistle. ""And you have proof of this?""
""I have the offshore escrow accounts and the unredacted cooperation agreements. Arthur Foster intends to swallow Dante's empire whole, leaving you and the Romanos fighting over the scraps in a federal penitentiary."" Clare took a slow, steady breath. ""I'm offering you the ammunition to wipe out Foster Capital’s leverage before sunrise.""
""And what does Dante's loyal wife want in exchange for turning state's evidence against her own house?""
""I am not turning against my house, Vincent,"" Clare replied coldly. ""I am purging the parasites. I want complete immunity for Bennett Hospitality, full release of the deeds to my family’s properties, and I want Dante left alive when the dust settles. He will answer to me, not to a federal judge, and certainly not to a bullet from your men.""
Vincent was quiet for several long seconds. ""You really are your father's daughter, Clare. Send the drop coordinates. If the files are genuine, Foster will be swimming with the tide before dawn.""
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Clare ended the call and removed the SIM card, snapping it in half. She walked to the mirror, wiped away a stray smudge of eyeliner, and smoothed down her black silk dress.
Dante thought he was playing chess with thugs and politicians. He had forgotten that Clare was the one who kept the board balanced. If he wanted to bring a war into her dining room, she would make sure he was the one who had to clean up the blood.
