Chapter 5 - The Man Dante Trusted Most
Vittorio Salvatore had taught Dante how to drive.
How to shoot.
How to negotiate.
How to bury his emotions so deeply that enemies mistook silence for invulnerability.
After Dante’s father died, Vittorio had become the closest thing he had to one.
Now Dante sat inside his study staring at a photograph of them together.
Elena stood behind him.
“You don’t know it’s him.”
“Yes.”
“You have one word from Vivien.”
“I have Sofia’s warning.”
“That said someone inside your family. Not Vittorio.”
Dante turned.
“Charles Harlow called someone Uncle.”
“Maybe it’s a nickname.”
“You’re trying to give me hope.”
“Yes.”
“Don’t.”
The answer was so quiet it hurt.
Elena sat opposite him.
For two days, they had been living inside Dante’s secured Gold Coast residence.
Isabel had been moved to another property.
Vivien was under protection.
Marcus had refused to leave her.
That surprised Elena.
Maybe weak men could become stronger after discovering the cost of weakness.
Dante had barely slept.
Elena reached across the desk.
Her fingers touched his.
He looked down.
She almost pulled away.
Instead Dante turned his hand and held hers.
No performance.
No ballroom.
No audience.
Just them.
“Why did you really help me that night?” Elena asked.
“At first?”
“Yes.”
“I recognized you from the file.”
“And after?”
His thumb moved over her knuckles.
“I saw you crying.”
“That’s it?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“You were humiliated, but you still apologized when you ran into me.”
Elena laughed softly.
“That impressed you?”
“People with power rarely apologize. People without power are forced to apologize constantly. You did it automatically, but when I insulted your pride, you fought back.”
“You asked me to marry you.”
“I never claimed good judgment.”
She smiled.
For one brief second, Dante did too.
Then his office door opened.
Vittorio walked in.
Elena knew immediately.
He was in his early sixties, silver-haired, elegant, carrying himself with the same controlled confidence as Dante.
“Am I interrupting?”
Dante released Elena’s hand.
“No.”
Vittorio looked at her.
“So this is Elena Reyes.”
Something in his gaze made her skin crawl.
“Nice to meet you.”
“I’ve heard quite a lot.”
“Recently?”
A faint smile.
“Very.”
Dante stood.
“What do you want?”
“Your men raided two Harlow warehouses yesterday. Charles is nervous.”
“He should be.”
“War over a seven-year-old accident?”
Dante’s face changed.
Elena felt it.
Vittorio had said too much.
Dante’s voice became dangerously calm.
“I never told you this was about Sofia.”
Silence.
Vittorio smiled.
“There are few reasons you’d target Charles.”
“Did you kill her?”
Elena’s breath caught.
No games.
No gradual accusation.
Vittorio sighed.
“You always were impatient.”
Dante stepped around the desk.
“Answer me.”
“I loved Sofia.”
“You don’t get to say her name.”
Vittorio’s eyes hardened.
“She was going to destroy everything your father built.”
“She found laundering records.”
“She found survival.”
Dante lunged.
Elena had never seen violence happen so quickly.
One moment the men were separated.
The next, Dante had Vittorio against the wall.
Vittorio did not fight back.
“Do it,” he whispered. “Become exactly what she feared you would.”
Dante’s fist tightened.
Elena approached.
“Dante.”
He did not look at her.
“Dante.”
Slowly, he released Vittorio.
His uncle straightened his jacket.
“You think restraint makes you better?”
“No,” Dante said. “Evidence does.”
Security entered.
Vittorio laughed.
“You can’t arrest me.”
“I don’t need to.”
Dante’s men took his weapons.
Then Vittorio looked at Elena.
“You’re the weakness now.”
Dante moved.
But Elena stepped forward first.
“No.”
Everyone stopped.
She faced Vittorio.
“You people keep making the same mistake.”
“And what mistake is that?”
“You think because someone loves another person, it makes them weak.”
Elena glanced at Dante.
“It makes them harder to control.”
Something shifted in Dante’s expression.
Vittorio smiled.
“You think he loves you?”
Elena’s heart stumbled.
“I think it’s none of your business.”
Vittorio laughed as security escorted him out.
Dante waited until the door closed.
Then he turned.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Why?”
“He’ll target you.”
“He already has.”
Dante stared at her.
“Elena, whatever started between us was based on a lie.”
“I know.”
“You owe me nothing.”
“I know.”
“I can put you and your mother on a plane tonight.”
“I know.”
His frustration broke.
“Then why are you still here?”
Elena stood.
“Because you’re not the only person Sofia’s death hurt anymore.”
“That isn’t enough.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“And because somewhere between your terrible marriage proposal and armed guards following me to the bathroom, I started caring whether you survive this.”
Dante said nothing.
“So deal with it.”
She walked toward the door.
“Elena.”
She turned.
He crossed the room.
His hand came to her cheek.
He paused.
Giving her the choice.
Elena closed the distance.
The kiss was nothing like she expected from Dante.
It was careful.
Almost restrained.
As though a man accustomed to taking whatever he wanted had discovered one thing he was terrified to break.
When they separated, Elena whispered, “That complicates things.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
His mouth almost curved.
Then an explosion shook the house.
Glass shattered.
Dante threw Elena to the floor and covered her body with his.
Alarms screamed.
Smoke rolled past the windows.
His security chief burst in.
“Garage explosion. Diversion.”
“For what?”
The man looked grim.
“Vittorio escaped.”
Dante rose.
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
He answered.
Vittorio’s voice came through.
“You chose the girl.”
Dante’s eyes went cold.
“You should have chosen blood.”
The call ended.
A second phone rang.
Elena’s.
She answered.
Her mother was crying.
“Elena?”
“Mamá?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
A man took the phone.
May you like
Charles Harlow.
“Bring me Sofia’s ledger,” he said, “or your mother dies before midnight.”
