Chapter 4 - The Price of Loyalty
The door flew open.
Vanessa Bennett stood in the doorway, wrapped in an emerald-green silk dressing gown that matched the cold fury blazing in her eyes. Her blond hair was down, and her makeup was washed away, revealing the taut, furious lines of a woman used to getting everything she demanded.
Her eyes darted from Dante’s towering figure to Elena, who had instantly stepped back into the shadows near the bookshelf, her head bowed in standard servant protocol.
"I knew it," Vanessa hissed, stepping into the room and slamming the door behind her. "I knew I smelled low-class desperation in here."
Dante didn't flinch. He casually picked up his glass of scotch from the side table and took a measured sip. "You should be asleep, Vanessa."
"Asleep? While my fiancé holds secret midnight conferences with the domestic help?" Vanessa sneered, closing the distance between them. She pointed an immaculate, manicured finger straight at Elena. "Get out of this room right now, you pathetic little leech."
Elena moved toward the door, but Dante’s voice cut through the air like a whip.
"Stay where you are, Elena."
Elena froze, caught between two opposing forces of immense destruction.
Vanessa turned on Dante, her face contorting with rage. "Are you out of your mind? My father just pledged forty million dollars to your logistics merger tonight! We gave you the port authorities, Dante! You were a street thug with blood on your hands until the Bennett family gave you a seat at the civilized table! And you dare disrespect me for a servant?"
Dante slowly set the crystal glass down on the desk. The sound of the glass meeting wood was quiet, yet it carried the finality of a courtroom gavel. He looked at Vanessa, his eyes void of any warmth.
"Your father didn't give me anything, Vanessa," Dante said in a low, terrifyingly calm voice. "Your father borrowed thirty million dollars from my loan operations five years ago to keep his hedge fund from imploding. This marriage wasn't an act of charity by the Bennett family; it was Richard Bennett begging me not to call in his debts and throw him into federal prison."
Vanessa’s face went paper-white. "That's... that's a lie."
"Ask him," Dante said simply. "Check his safe in Southampton. The promissory notes bear my signature. So do not stand in my library and lecture me about civilized tables. You sit at my table because I allow it."
Vanessa breathed heavily, realizing she had overplayed her hand. She glanced at Elena, her hatred multiplying tenfold. A woman like Vanessa could forgive a man for being cold; she could never forgive being humiliated in front of someone she considered subhuman.
"Fine," Vanessa spat, regaining a venomous composure. "Keep your little pet for now. But remember this, Dante: business partners talk. If the council hears that the great Dante Moretti is playing house with an accused thief, your reputation won't survive the winter. And neither will she."
Vanessa whirled around and stormed out of the library, the door swinging shut with a violent slam that rattled the crystal pendants on the wall sconces.
Elena stood paralyzed in the corner, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird. "Accused thief... She knows."
Dante turned to her, his gaze intense and unyielding. "Vanessa doesn't know anything that I haven't already investigated, Elena."
"No, Mr. Moretti, you don't understand," Elena said, her voice shaking with impending dread. "Vanessa has connections. She knows the people who manage the Grand Central Hotel. She will destroy whatever little reputation I have left. She will make sure no one ever hires me again. My mother will die in an underfunded ward because I couldn't keep my mouth shut!"
Dante crossed the room in two swift strides, grabbing Elena firmly by both shoulders. He didn't shake her, but his grip was an anchor in a raging storm.
"Look at me," he commanded.
Elena looked up into those dark, storm-grey eyes.
"No one touches you while I breathe," Dante promised, his voice etched in stone. "Not Vanessa. Not her father. Not the council. I didn't save your job three months ago out of pity, Elena. I hired you because the moment I saw your file, I knew you were the only real thing in a city full of snakes."
"Dante..." she breathed, using his first name without realizing it.
"Tomorrow morning, a specialist from Mount Sinai is arriving at your mother's apartment," Dante continued relentlessly. "Catherine Carter is being transferred to a private cardiac unit. The bills are paid. Permanently."
May you like
Elena gasped, fresh tears spilling over. "Why? Why would you do that for me?"
Dante’s thumb brushed against her cheek once more, his touch softer than she ever thought a killer's could be. "Because for the first time in thirty-six years, I want something that isn't bought with blood. Now go to bed, Elena. Let me fight the war I started."
