Chapter 3 - Blood on the Mahogany
""Get them out of here!"" Luca yelled, pinning a cursing Marcus Vance against the rug while other security guards secured the exits. ""Sweep the perimeter! There might be more outside!""
Dante didn't look at Vance. He walked straight toward Piper, stepping over pools of spilled water and crushed wine glasses. Without a word, he grabbed her by the elbow. His grip was firm, unyielding, yet surprisingly careful.
""Hey! Let go of her!"" Josie shrieked from the pantry doorway, clutching a pair of heavy shears like a dagger.
""Josie, stay back!"" Piper shouted, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Dante didn't pause. He propelled Piper through a concealed service door behind the main bar, into a dimly lit, narrow corridor lined with exposed brick. Behind them, the sounds of shouting and breaking furniture faded behind heavy acoustic paneling.
""What do you think you're doing?"" Piper gasped, trying to twist out of his grasp. ""You almost got me killed! That man had a gun!""
Dante stopped abruptly, spinning her around so her back met the cool brick wall. He trapped her with both hands braced on either side of her shoulders, leaning in until she could feel the heat radiating from his chest.
""You pushed a cart into an assassin’s ribs, Piper,"" Dante murmured, his eyes blazing in the dim corridor light. ""You saved my life.""
""I was trying to stop a murder in front of my dahlias!"" she snapped defensively, though her voice hitched. ""Blood ruins linen! It’s impossible to wash out!""
Dante stared at her, incredulous. Then, a raw, deep rumble vibrated through his chest, and he threw his head back, laughing with genuine abandon. It was an astonishing sound—rich, vibrant, and completely human. When he looked back at her, the usual cold mask of Louisville’s most feared man was gone, replaced by something fierce and alive.
""You are utterly insane,"" he whispered.
""I'm broke and stressed,"" she corrected, breathing hard. ""There's a clinical difference.""
""Why did you really interfere?"" he asked, his voice softening, dropping into an intimate register that made her knees feel treacherously weak. ""You owe me nothing. You told everyone I had an ice-cold heart.""
Piper swallowed hard. ""Because cold hearts can still beat. And because... I found this.""
She reached into her apron pocket and pulled out the crumpled luggage tag from the flower crate. She held it out to him.
Dante took it. The moment his eyes registered the handwriting and the phrase The garden burns at midnight, Little Bird, all amusement vanished from his face. His expression shifted into something terrifyingly lethal.
""Where did you find this?"" he asked, his voice dead and cold.
""In a crate from Camille’s shop. Sent by an anonymous courier,"" Piper said, her voice dropping. ""Dante... whoever wrote this knows who I am. My father used to call me that. Only someone who knew Monroe Florals years ago could have written it.""
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Dante turned the card over in his fingers. On the back, stamped in nearly invisible UV ink, was a small, faded logo: an anchor crossed with a sickle.
""Marcus Vance didn't plan this alone,"" Dante said softly. ""The freight syndicate is working with someone inside your world. Someone who knew you would be standing in this room tonight.""
