Sharp gazes cut around the room and I followed the stares. In one corner a man held court with dozens of expensive liquor bottles, doling out drinks to those who luxuriated in his presence. On the opposite end of the room, men and women slowly removed layers of clothing, swaying their near-naked bodies in hopes of capturing the greedy gazes of those content with watching. Attention was their vice, and, even though it felt wrong to participate in something that was surely enhancing Greed’s power, I couldn’t stop from indulging in their sultry show.

I shook myself from the trance, and looked for the demon I suspected was around.

A door along the far wall was flanked by scowling guards in fine clothes. I’d wager anything I’d find Greed there. If I could make it through the crowded room. There were so many patrons that I had to tread carefully. I tried weaving around groups of people standing behind card players, but barely squeezed through immoveable bodies. Servers carried silver trays overflowing with food and drink, making the progression more difficult than it already was. I managed to shoot between a line of people topping off prosecco glasses before a fight broke out behind me.

Cheers and jeers erupted at the nearest table. I stood on tiptoes and peered past a crowd of people who’d moved in to see what had drawn such a reaction. The door was still impossibly far.

I debated hopping up onto the tables, and running across them when I heard her name—it was a blade to my heart.

“Vittoria!”

I spun slowly, searching for whoever’d called out for my sister. My attention landed on a man around my father’s age, half sitting in his chair, half falling to the floor. Gambling chips and empty glasses were stacked in haphazard piles around him. He lifted his gaze, and I drew in a sharp breath. Domenico Nucci Senior.

“Signore Nucci. Do you—”

“Vittoria, be a good girl and see about my drink, will you?” His focus slid to the next card someone slapped down. “Maybe get some of those fried calamari with extra arrabbiata to dip them in, too. It’s gonna be another long game. These cheaters are making me feel wolfish.”

He smiled like we were sharing some big secret.

“I’m not—I’m Emilia, my sister is . . .” Signore Nucci was obviously intoxicated and probably thought he was at Sea & Vine, ordering dinner. The spicy marinara and fried octopus were one of our most popular dishes to share. It also explained his confusion over calling me Vittoria—she used to help our father and uncle in the dining room sometimes. “I’ll make sure someone brings your food soon.”

I turned and smacked into a hard chest. One of the nicely dressed men who’d been guarding the door glared down at me. “The boss would like a word with you. Come this way.”