Chapter 6 - Tên Chapter 6 - The Taste of Arsenic and Truffles
The entire ballroom plunged into a stunned, breathless silence. The four hundred wealthy socialites, politicians, and social elites stopped clinking their crystal glasses as footsteps echoed against the hardwood floor.
Lorenzo Bianca walked into the room.
He didn't sneak in through the back service entrance. He walked through the main doors like an emperor entering a conquered province. Flanked by four massive men in dark suits, Lorenzo wore an immaculate midnight-blue tuxedo, his face an emotionless mask of aristocratic menace. He didn't carry a weapon. He didn't need to. His very presence sucked all the air out of the room.
""What is the meaning of this?"" Jonathan Vance barked, releasing my wrist as if it were on fire and rising from his chair. ""This is a private wedding reception! Security! Remove these men!""
Two private security guards in grey uniforms stepped forward from the terrace doors, their hands drifting toward their concealed holsters.
Mateo moved like a shadow. In less than three seconds, he stepped between them, grabbed the first guard by the throat, and shoved him violently against the marble pillar with enough force to crack the plaster. The second guard froze, looked at Mateo’s terrifying eyes, and immediately raised both hands in total surrender.
""Please,"" Lorenzo said, his smooth, resonant voice carrying effortlessly across the silent ballroom. ""Nobody interrupt the music. It’s a celebration.""
He walked slowly toward Table Two, his eyes fixed entirely on Jonathan Vance. When he reached our table, he didn't look at Vance first. He looked at my wrist.
A faint red mark was beginning to form where Vance had grabbed me. Lorenzo’s jaw tightened, a microscopic shift in his expression that promised unmitigated slaughter. He reached out, gently took my fingers in his, and raised my hand to his lips, kissing the bruised skin with infinite gentleness right in front of four hundred of Chicago’s highest elites.
""Did he hurt you, Rosie?"" Lorenzo asked softly.
""I'm fine,"" I whispered, my heart thumping wildly against my ribs. ""The numbers did the hurting.""
Lorenzo smiled thinly, turning his attention to Vance, who was now sweating so profusely that his silver hair was plastered to his forehead.
""Jonathan,"" Lorenzo greeted, picking up the glass of Dom Pérignon I had poured earlier and swirling the vintage champagne. ""You threw a lovely party for your daughter. The truffles are exceptional. Salvatore Rossi assured me they were delivered on time.""
""Bianca,"" Vance croaked, glancing nervously at Commissioner Higgins, who had completely abandoned his chair and was backing away toward the restrooms. ""This is a misunderstanding. Business between our firms can be handled privately downtown.""
""There is no business between our firms,"" Lorenzo said coldly, slamming the crystal flute down onto the table with sudden, terrifying violence. The glass shattered, spraying champagne across Vance’s silk lapel. ""You bribed Dante to stage a hijacking. You attempted to steal my transit permits, and then you used my stolen funds to pay for this mockery of a wedding.""
""You have no proof!"" Vance hissed, his arrogance clinging to him like a dying breath. ""You are an organized criminal! Nobody in the State’s Attorney’s office will take your word over mine!""
""They won't take my word,"" Lorenzo agreed, tilting his head slightly toward me. ""They will take the word of Miss Rosie Moretti. Senior Coordinator of The Drake, certified forensic hospitality auditor, and the granddaughter of the woman who designed the modern shipping registry for the Port of Chicago.""
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The crowd murmured. Reporters from local society columns who were covering the wedding started snapping photos from the perimeter.
Lorenzo took a step closer, towering over the trembling billionaire. ""The wire transfers have been frozen by federal banking regulators. Your company’s trading license will be revoked by nine o'clock on Monday morning. And if you ever raise your voice, touch, or cast your eyes upon Rosie again, you won't lose your money, Jonathan. You will lose your life. Get out of this hotel.""
