Chapter Eight: Dinner with Ghosts
Two days later, Vincent was invited to dinner with the devil.
An embossed envelope, hand-delivered by one of Giovanni's old bodyguards. Old-school. Formal. Sicilian manners never die, even when you're ordering your son's funeral.
Frankie tried to talk him out of it. Isabella said it was suicide. But Vincent accepted anyway.
They met at Velluto, the family's old restaurant—velvet booths, silver candlesticks, the smell of wine and ruin thick in the air. Vincent hadn't been here since he was nineteen, still eager to prove he could break bones for the family name.
Giovanni was already seated when Vincent walked in, wearing a midnight-black suit, tie knotted like a noose. He looked smaller than Vincent remembered. The kind of small that happens when power leaks out through too many cracks.
"You've grown cold, figlio mio," Giovanni said in Italian, swirling his wine. "I taught you better manners."
Vincent sat down across from him. No handshake. No kiss on the cheek. Just silence, sharp as glass.
"You taught me to bury bodies, padre. And you tried to make me one."
Giovanni sighed, a rich man's sigh, the kind that makes waiters scurry. "You were never meant for the life I built. You wanted too much. You would've torn it all down."
Vincent leaned in, voice low, steady, sharp as a blade tip. "No. I wanted to fix it. You were the one too afraid to let go of the old ways."
Giovanni's hand twitched. A tiny movement, but enough to betray that the old Don was, finally, afraid.
"You can walk away from this," Giovanni said softly. "Forget it. I'll give you Miami. Run the whole goddamn coast if you want."
Vincent smiled, slow and cruel. "I'm not here to run anything. I'm here to bury you."
The door to the restaurant opened again. Luca Romano entered, flanked by soldiers, wearing that same serpent's smile he always wore when he thought he was the smartest man in the room.
"Family reunion," Luca drawled.
Vincent stood. "Good. I was getting tired of eating alone."
The war started in velvet and candlelight.