The air in the backroom of Il Fortuna was thick—thick with cigar smoke, thick with quiet tension, thick with the kind of money that could build or bury a man. The heavy green felt of the poker table soaked up the weight of power, greed, and silent wagers made with more than just cash.
It was a room of dealmakers and kingmakers, of men who ran the city in different ways. Old money tycoons, corrupt officials, criminals dressed in silk and shadow—they all had a seat at the table. They all played, but the real game wasn't the cards.
Dom Ricci knew that better than anyone.
From his seat, whiskey in hand, he surveyed the men around the table with the same quiet detachment he used to size up a business opportunity—or a target. He wasn't just here to gamble.
He was here to test loyalty.
And across from him, Vinnie Costa shuffled his chips with that too-easy smirk, that relaxed posture that told the room he was comfortable. At ease.
Too at ease.
Vinnie always had that look, like the world was one big game and he was just figuring out how to cheat it.
The dealer, a slick-looking kid who knew better than to make eye contact, dealt the next round. The cards slid across the felt like whispers in the dark.
Vinnie flipped up the corner of his cards with his index finger, still smirking. "You ever think about fate, Dom?"
Dom didn't react right away. He took a slow sip of whiskey, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make Vinnie wonder if he was going to answer.
"I think about choices," Dom finally said, setting his glass down. "Fate's just a story people tell themselves when they're too weak to make their own."
Vinnie chuckled, glancing at his hand. "Yeah, but what if the choices are already made for us?"
Dom raised an eyebrow, his gaze steady. "Then you ain't playing the right game."
Laughter rippled around the table, but there was something else in Vinnie's eyes—something unreadable. A flicker of calculation masked by charm.
Dom noticed it this time. That flicker. It wasn't new, not entirely, but it lingered longer than usual, as though Vinnie were testing waters only he could see.
The game continued. The stakes grew higher.
Money meant little to these men; what mattered was the message behind each bet. A raise was a show of power. A fold was a calculated retreat. A bluff? A declaration of war.
Dom played controlled. Measured. Like a man who had spent years building something he refused to lose.
Vinnie played sharp. Bold. Reckless.
A man testing limits.
Dom watched him push his luck, push the room, push him.
And for the first time, he wondered if Vinnie was playing a longer game than the one in front of them.
An hour in, the weaker men had folded, their stacks of chips cashed out, their egos bruised.
Only the ones who mattered remained.
Dom.
Vinnie.
A real estate kingpin who bought half the city with dirty money.
And a senator who owed Dom more than he'd ever admit.
Vinnie leaned back in his chair, rolling a chip between his fingers. "Funny thing about power," he mused. "It's like a big stack of chips. You hold on too tight, you stop playing the game. You get reckless, you lose it all."
Dom's eyes narrowed. "You planning on getting reckless, Vinnie?"
Vinnie grinned. "I know when to bet on the right hand."
And then he made his move.
A bold raise—too bold.
The senator hesitated, then folded. The real estate kingpin sneered but followed.
It was down to Dom and Vinnie.
A lesser man might have backed down, let his boss take the win. But Vinnie wasn't a lesser man.
Dom studied him, then smiled. Not a smirk, not a calculation—just a real smile.
"You got balls, kid." He tossed in his chips, calling Vinnie's bet. "Let's see if they pay off."
The dealer turned the cards.
Vinnie won.
A flush—diamonds, sharp and shining, cutting through the tension like a blade.
For a moment, there was silence.
Then Dom laughed. A real laugh. He raised his glass. "To knowing when to bet on the right hand."
Vinnie clinked his glass against Dom's, his smirk never fading.
"And when to fold," Vinnie murmured.
But the way he said it…
Something about it lingered.
Dom caught the edge in Vinnie's voice, a faint note of challenge hidden beneath the camaraderie. His gut tightened, but he dismissed it. Vinnie was young, ambitious. Maybe he was just enjoying the thrill of the victory.
Or maybe it was more.
The game ended, but the night was far from over.
As the other men drifted away, Dom leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
"I got something for you, Vinnie."
Vinnie's eyes flickered with curiosity. "Yeah?"
Dom reached into his jacket and slid a small black envelope across the table.
It was unmarked, but its weight carried more than paper.
Inside was a name, a location, and a price.
"Senator Orsini," Dom murmured. "He's getting sloppy. Needs a reminder who put him in that seat."
Vinnie's fingers drummed against the table. "You want persuasion or something stronger?"
"Just enough to make him remember where his loyalty lies." Dom's gaze was steady. "You handle this clean, you handle this right, and there's bigger things coming your way."
Vinnie picked up the envelope, weighing it in his hand.
Dom had built his empire on men he could trust. Vinnie was one of them. Had always been.
Some things, you didn't question.
"You trust me with this?" Vinnie asked, his tone light but his eyes sharp.
Dom didn't hesitate. "More than anyone."
Vinnie nodded slowly, slipping the envelope into his pocket.
As Vinnie stood to leave, Dom called after him. "Remember, Vinnie—it's not just about winning. It's about keeping what you've earned."
Vinnie paused, turning back with that familiar grin. "Don't worry, Dom. I'll keep my end of the bargain."
But his words rang hollow, leaving a faint echo in the room.
From his usual spot at the bar, Detective Ray Calderone watched them.
Watched Dom.
Watched Vinnie.
The way Vinnie leaned in just a little too casually.
The way Dom laughed just a little too easily.
There was something there. A crack in the foundation.
He just didn't know how deep it ran. Not yet.
Calderone exhaled smoke, tapping his fingers against his glass.
The underworld was shifting. He could feel it.
And when it moved, men like him had to decide which side of the collapse they wanted to be on.
As Dom poured himself another drink, he turned to Vinnie, still grinning from his poker win.
"You know, there are some men you can always count on," Dom mused, swirling the whiskey in his glass.
Vinnie leaned back, watching Dom with an expression that almost looked like admiration.
Almost.
"And some men who don't know how to lose," Vinnie said softly.
Dom chuckled, lifting his glass. "Good thing we ain't those men."
Vinnie smiled.
But this time, he didn't answer.
And for the first time, Dom noticed.
His stomach churned, but he forced himself to ignore it.
Trust wasn't built overnight, but neither was betrayal.