ena

nst the grey morning sky. Armed guards in black suits conduct a brisk, impersonal search, their hands m

on the other side, his posture as sev

d of inflection. "I am the Consigliere of this ho

ty seeming to press in on me from all sides. We walk past private equestrian groun

This is power made manife

g in the air is thick and suffocating. A massive portrait hangs above the staircase-a man in his prime, dark-haired, with i

" the Consigliere says without looking back

corridor so long that my shoes make no sound on the deep-pile carpet, the very

me, his voice sinking t

n a single word since he was three. He on

processing t

use was one week," the Consigliere adds, his gaze bec

onsigliere and wa

r and pale skin. His eyes are beautiful, but his pupils are like two dry wells

ocks into a tower, his small hands

ghtened children, dies in the room's sterile air. Instead, I slowly crouch down u

ck from the pile and place it

y still. He star

his small hand shoots out as if sprung, snatches the block I placed

linch. I d

. Then I pick up another block an

it and thro

in the doorway, a current of tensi

entirely. I stack two blocks vertically and place one across the top. With the remai

ack, resting them

turns his head and stares at my creation. He

his own meticulously built castle. He extends his small ar

. I look over my shoulder and find the Consigli

a new face," the Consigliere whispers, as if to himself

is already returning to hi

ep back into the hallway as if to regain his composure. "Your room is adjacent t

round security levels and the first-floor living quarters. The Consigliere explicitly w

g. The room is vast, anchored by a king-sized bed draped in dark silk sh

The material yields beneath me, but

osed to marry. Today, I am sitting inside a multi-million-dollar mafia

-