"I can see why you didn't tell me what I wanted to know." Francesca nodded toward me, taking in the sight of my marked body with an obvious stare. "It would've ruined the surprise."
"You know I have a thing for drama." I smirked at her, twirling the Prosecco in my glass. Everyone attending the party, friend, foe and stranger alike, had been staring at me all night. I'd well and truly stolen the show, but I was just thankful that Anton's wife wasn't upset with me for it.
"My party will be the talk of the century," she'd relayed to me with an ecstatic smile. "You've done me a great service. Sorry for your loss, by the way."
"The brand?" Her eyes dropped toward the raised scar of the sigil on my lower abdomen. "Why are you showing it off?"
"I want everyone here to know who did this to me, and that he died for it." There were members of the Chinese mafia in the crowd, some who I knew were in the talks with Rolando.
