Bound By Blood
Leonard, meanwhile, sat at the head of the table with the men, his voice calm but commanding, like he was orchestrating a symphony only he could hear.
Dinner began. Conversation buzzed. I tried to steady my hands as I lifted my glass, pretending the crystal didn’t tremble against my fingers.
And then it happened.
The wine slipped before I even realized it—scarlet liquid blooming like blood across the lap of Bianca Moretti, the wife of the rival boss himself.
The hall stilled. Forks paused mid-air.
“Oh God….” I reached for a napkin, mortified, but Bianca caught my wrist before I could dab at the spreading stain.