Chapter 8 - The Rehearsal
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The estate was a hive of frantic, beautiful activity. Florists rushed through the grand hallways carrying massive arrangements of white orchids. The catering staff, peppered with Silas’s disguised hitmen, polished silverware and arranged crystal glasses in the reception tent on the back lawn.
Alessandro found Fatima in the kitchen corridors, herding a small group of maids.
“Fatima,” he called out softly.
The housekeeper turned, her face pale. She hadn't slept either.
“Mr. Rienzi,” she bowed her head respectfully.
“Take Amara and go down to the old wine cellar in the sub-basement,” Alessandro instructed, his voice barely above a whisper. “The steel door locks from the inside. There is food and water already stocked. Do not open that door for anyone but me or Matteo. Do you understand?”
Fatima’s eyes widened with terror, but she nodded fiercely. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”
With the child secured, Alessandro walked out onto the expansive lawn to oversee the final preparations for the ceremony. The white chairs were arranged perfectly, facing the dark, rolling waters of Lake Michigan.
As he inspected the altar, a man in a crisp white catering uniform approached him carrying a clipboard.
“Mr. Rienzi,” the man said smoothly. “Would you like to review the final seating chart for the reception?”
Alessandro turned. The man was smiling politely, but his eyes were cold and dead. The sleeve of his white shirt was slightly too short, revealing the very bottom tail of a snake tattoo on his wrist.
Silas.
Alessandro’s pulse remained perfectly steady. He took the clipboard, pretending to examine the names. He was standing three feet away from the man hired to murder him by midnight.
“The chart looks perfect,” Alessandro said, handing the clipboard back with an easy, arrogant smile. “Make sure my bride’s uncle has a prime view of the dance floor. He’s traveled a long way for this.”
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“I will personally ensure he gets the best seat in the house, sir,” Silas replied, his smile widening into something predatory.
“See that you do,” Alessandro said. He turned his back on the hitman, casually adjusting his cufflinks, and walked back toward the mansion to put on his wedding tuxedo. The stage was set.
