Chapter 6 - A Dance with the Devil
The orchestra began to play a slow, melancholic waltz, and Aleandro steered Bella onto the center of the dance floor. The surrounding tables of syndicate bosses, hitmen, and corrupt politicians parted like the Red Sea.
"You took a massive risk back there," Aleandro whispered, his hand resting warm and firm against the bare skin of her lower back. He led her into a flawless turn, his movements remarkably graceful for a man who killed for a living.
"You said don't look like a terrified doll," Bella replied, matching his steps with fierce precision. Her heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird, but her expression remained serene. "Did I pass the test?"
"You didn't just pass. You practically lit Carmine's mustache on fire." A genuine, low laugh escaped his throat, transforming his severe, dangerous face into something breathtakingly handsome. "Where did you learn to lie like that? Bianke didn't sign over Newark until two hours ago. The news wasn't even public."
"I listened to you on the phone in the car," she countered, looking directly into his dark eyes. "I pay attention, Moretti. When you grow up with nothing, you learn to read every shift in the wind just to survive."
His hand tightened against her spine, drawing her an inch closer. The heat between their bodies was suffocating, blurring the line between performance and something dangerously real.
"You're an extraordinary woman, Isabella," he murmured, his gaze dropping to her throat where her pulse fluttered madly.
"Don't flatter me," she said, though her breath caught. "We have a contract. Remember?"
"Contracts can be renegotiated," he whispered, leaning down until his lips brushed the sensitive skin beneath her ear.
Before Bella could respond, the chandeliers overhead flickered once, twice, and died.
Total darkness crashed down over the ballroom.
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A split second later, the sharp, deafening roar of automatic gunfire tore through the glass windows overlooking the courtyard. Screams erupted. Champagne flutes shattered.
In a fraction of a heartbeat, Aleandro’s arm hooked around Bella’s waist, violently sweeping her off her feet as he tackled her behind a heavy overturned marble bar just as a hail of bullets shredded the velvet curtains where they had been standing seconds before.
