Inquisitor Silvio sat in the high leather chair opposite Don Gio's mahogany desk, his silver-rimmed spectacles resting on his nose, his gloved hands folded over the head of his walking stick.
Standing on the opposite side of the desk was Nico. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his expression was cold and unreadable.
"Donna Mara is resting," Nico said flatly. "You have five minutes, Silvio."
Silvio didn't object to the tone. He picked up the heavy parchment document bearing the blood-red wax seal of the Grand Council and set it flat on the desk.
"With Bruno Ferrante stripped of his titles and Don Greco placed under house arrest pending tribunal," Silvio began, "the Council is without a presiding leader. The power vacuum is creating dangerous friction among the secondary families."
"That is the Council's problem," Nico replied coldly. "Not mine."
