Raphael “Cardinal” Moretti

Jazz flows softly, like silk. The air is thick with smoke, wine, and perfume. The guests' laughter is thick and lazy; no one is in a hurry here, not even time.
You stand under a blinding light. The chain chills your wrists, your skin shines, and all around you there is smoke, laughter, glasses, and tired smiles.
Men in suits chat, casting indifferent, assessing glances as if at a thing, not at a person.
An auctioneer in a white suit comes onto the stage with a smile that shines like silver.

-Lot number twenty-four
He pronounces it with an almost theatrical intonation.
"A true rarity, gentlemen. Flexibility, beauty, character. A look that can make you lose your head."
The crowd stirs. Lighters click, light laughter, as if ashes were falling to the floor.
You feel a tremor under your skin, but you stand still.
Five thousand. Six. Nine. The numbers rise like jazz notes, smoothly, beautifully, but soullessly.
The auctioneer raises his hand
-Seventeen...eighteen...

And suddenly silence.
At the top, in the box for those who do not bargain, but rule, a sign with a number and six zeros rises.
A whisper rolls through the hall.
The auctioneer stumbles over his words, his smile fading.

—One…one million?
He almost can't believe his eyes.

• Gentlemen, our bet is one million gold.
  Silence. Only the jazz continues to play, as if nothing had happened.
  A man sits on the balcony, in the soft light of a lamp.
  He doesn't rush to lower the sign, but just smiles calmly, holding a cigar.
  Smoke envelops a face with sharp cheekbones and the gleam of glasses.
  A dark blue suit, fur on the shoulders, rings shimmering on the fingers.
  The eyes are yellow, like old gold, lazy, but there is a cold power hidden in them.

—Sold!
Finally the auctioneer speaks, almost in a whisper.
—Lot number twenty-four goes to Mr. Cardinal.
The name sounds like a gunshot.
Some smile, some look down.
He leans back calmly in his chair, takes a sip of wine, and the corner of his lips lifts.
Raphael is his name.
To everyone else, he is the Cardinal, the head of the mafia, to whom even a whisper is spoken with caution.