Chapter 3 - The Price of Disrespect
The ballroom seemed to tilt on its axis.
Noel felt the warmth of Gabriel's lips against her skin, a grounding spark in the middle of a terrifying hurricane. Around them, hundreds of socialites stared in stunned disbelief. Glasses stopped halfway to mouths. Whispers erupted like dry brush catching fire.
David looked as though he had been struck by a runaway freight train. His jaw hung open, his face draining of every drop of blood. ""Noel? You... you know Mr. Rossi?""
Gabriel didn't even grant David the courtesy of eye contact. He kept his fingers intertwined with Noel's, gently taking the cheap catering clipboard from her hands and passing it behind him to his associate, Luca.
""Get rid of this trash,"" Gabriel commanded smoothly. Luca took the clipboard and snapped it in half with one effortless flex of his forearms, letting the pieces drop with a clatter into an empty waste bin by the wall.
Chloe's shock quickly transformed into hysterical desperation. She couldn't stomach seeing Noel, the woman she had spent two years mocking as a discarded pauper, receiving deference from the apex predator of the city's financial elite.
""Mr. Rossi, there must be a profound misunderstanding!"" Chloe cried out, forcing a shrill, nervous laugh as she pushed herself forward. ""You clearly don't know who this girl is! She was fired from our foundation for embezzling funds! She's a common criminal, a bankrupt waitress who lives in a roach-infested studio! She is trying to con you!""
The temperature in the room plummeted below freezing.
Gabriel finally turned his full attention toward Chloe. His dark eyes narrowed into lethal slits. There was no anger on his face—only a profound, terrifying detachment that belonged to a man who signed death warrants over breakfast.
""Embezzlement?"" Gabriel asked softly. His voice didn't echo, yet it seemed to shake the very foundations of the ballroom. ""That's an interesting choice of words, Mrs. Pierce. Considering that every single financial audit of the Pierce Vanguard over the last twenty-four months has crossed my private desk.""
David's eyes flared with pure panic. ""What? What are you talking about?""
""Did you really believe that the banks granted you an emergency bridge loan last autumn out of charity?"" Gabriel took a slow, menacing step toward David, who shrank back until his spine slammed into a velvet-draped cocktail table, rattling a pyramid of crystal flutes. ""Did you honestly think the city municipal council approved your construction permits without collateral? Every debt your foundation owes was purchased by my holdings six months ago.""
Noel watched in silence, her breath trembling in her throat. She had known Gabriel was keeping an eye on the situation, but she hadn't realized the terrifying depth of the web he had woven while she struggled to survive.
Gabriel glanced toward the far side of the room, raising two fingers.
Instantly, the hotel's general manager, a haughty man named Harrison who had spent the last five hours screaming at the waitstaff and threatening to dock Noel's pay for taking a three-minute water break, came sprinting across the ballroom. He was sweating profusely, his silk handkerchief clutched tightly in his trembling fingers.
""M-Mr. Rossi! Good evening, sir! We had no idea you were arriving in person! The presidential suite has been prepared according to your specifications—""
""Harrison,"" Gabriel interrupted, his tone cutting through the manager's babbling like a scalpel. ""Who authorized this woman's placement on the banquet floor tonight?""
Harrison paled, looking between Noel, David, and Gabriel's terrifyingly calm expression. ""It... it was an outside agency, sir! But Mr. Pierce specifically requested that Miss Vance be assigned to the main floor. He said it would provide... closure.""
""Closure,"" Gabriel repeated, turning the word over on his tongue like poison. He looked back at David, whose knees were visibly trembling beneath his tailored slacks. ""You wanted to parade the woman who built your entire life before your new social circle to massage your pathetic ego.""
""Now, see here, Rossi!"" David sputtered, attempting to muster a shred of bravado in front of his wealthy donors. ""This is a private charity gala! I am the head of this foundation! You cannot come into my venue and intimidate my guests! I demand that you leave, or I will have hotel security remove you!""
A collective gasp echoed across the floor. To threaten Gabriel Rossi in public was akin to pulling the pin on a grenade and holding it against your own chest.
Gabriel smiled. It was a cold, predatory baring of teeth that made several women in the front row flinch.
""Your venue?"" Gabriel whispered. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a gold fountain pen, and looked back at Harrison. ""Harrison, who holds the primary deed of trust on the Bowmont Hotel property as of 4:00 p.m. this afternoon?""
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Harrison swallowed so hard it sounded like a bone cracking. ""Y-You do, Mr. Rossi. The transaction cleared wire transfer before the market closed.""
Gabriel leaned down slightly, bringing his face inches from David's paralyzed, sweating visage. ""You're standing under my roof, Pierce. Drinking my wine. Breathing my air. And you just threatened me.""
