Chapter 4 - The War Begins
Lorenzo backed away from the desk, his hands raised, his eyes darting frantically between his groaning guards on the floor and the barrel of Dante’s gun.
"Dante, wait!" Lorenzo stammered, the arrogant swagger gone in an instant. "We were just talking! It was a private discussion between business associates! My father sent me—"
"Your father didn't send you," I interrupted, stepping out from behind the desk. "Vittorio Bellini is ruthless, but he isn't stupid. He wouldn't send his son to threaten the wife of the man he needs to move his cargo. You did this on your own, didn't you, Lorenzo? You were trying to salvage your pride after last night."
Dante didn't lower his weapon. He stepped directly into Lorenzo’s personal space, pressing the cold steel of the barrel under the younger man’s chin, forcing his head back.
"My wife is smarter than you, Lorenzo," Dante whispered, his voice vibrating with lethal intensity. "She saw through your contract, and she sees through your pathetic schemes. If I pull this trigger right now, your father won't even start a war. He'll apologize to me for having a foolish son."
Lorenzo swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the gun barrel. "You kill me, Dante, and the New York docks close to you forever."
Dante stared at him for three agonizing seconds. Then, with a sudden, vicious motion, he slammed the butt of the gun across Lorenzo’s cheekbone.
Lorenzo collapsed onto the rug, clutching his bleeding face with a sharp cry of agony.
"Drag your garbage out of my home," Dante ordered, pointing at the wounded bodyguards. "Tell Vittorio that the deal is officially dead. And tell him that if I ever see your face in Chicago again, I won't use my hands. I’ll feed you to the river."
Lorenzo scrambled to his feet, terrified, helping his limping guards toward the elevator. The doors slid shut, taking their bloody mess with them.
I stood by the window, my pulse racing, my hands clenched into tight fists to hide their trembling. Dante turned toward me, his chest heaving, his dark hair falling across his forehead. He tossed his weapon onto the desk and stepped closer, looking at me with an intensity that made the room feel small.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice softening slightly.
"I'm fine," I said, catching my breath. "How did you know they were here?"
"Marco spotted their rental cars two blocks away and radioed me," Dante said. He looked down at the contract Lorenzo had left on the desk, then back up into my eyes. "He was offering you a bribe?"
"Five percent in an offshore shell," I replied. "He wanted me to lie to you. He wanted me to tell you the contract was clean."
Dante was silent for a moment. He reached out, his calloused thumb gently brushing against my cheek, tracing the line of my jaw with an unexpected tenderness. "Would you have taken it?"
I looked directly into his eyes, refusing to look away. "If I wanted money, Dante, I would have stayed in Zurich. I didn't marry you for your bank account, and I certainly didn't marry you to let a second-rate gangster use me as leverage."
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Dante’s expression softened, the hard lines of his face yielding to something raw and vulnerable. "We have a problem, Sophie. Vittorio isn't going to let this go. Killing Lorenzo was an empty threat; New York will strike back if we cut off their Midwest expansion. We either find a way to control this deal, or we prepare for blood in the streets."
"Then don't cut them off," I said, a dangerous plan forming in my mind. "Take them over."
