~ Massimo ~
The room held its breath, the silence so pronounced you could hear a pin drop.
Bloody hell, I could even hear everyone's breathing.
Every eye was completely fixed on Don Giacomo, waiting for the word that would set our plans in motion.
My father sat there like a king deciding who to send to the gallows, his face a mask of granite under the soft, flickering light of the chandelier.
"Massimo will lead the—"
"I'm going, Pa."
The interruption had even more effect than a gunshot.
Domino didn't yell, but his voice was like iron, hard and unyielding, cutting through my father's sentence before he could even finish what he wanted to say.
Domino wasn't asking for permission, he was declaring it like a fact with the kind of tone that brokered absolutely no argument, and ended up pulling every molecule of oxygen out of the room.
I heard Marietta's sharp, intake of breath. Her eyes went wide, darting toward Domino like she was looking at a ghost.
