Chapter 2 - The Contract of Blood
I took the thick leather folder with trembling fingers. Rain drops splattered against the clear plastic sleeves inside, but the signatures were unmistakable.
My father’s handwriting was scrawled at the bottom of a promissory agreement dated four years ago. Beneath it was a secondary clause—a syndicate buyout guaranteed by the Rossi crime family, Dante’s deadliest rivals.
"Your father didn't just lose his shipping company to bad investments, Elena," Dante said, his voice dropping into the steady, deadly cadence of the underworld. "He borrowed forty million dollars from Anton Rossi. When he couldn't pay, Rossi gave him two options: hand over the logistics docks that feed the Moretti territory, or let Rossi's men collect his younger daughter."
My breath hitched. "Collect me?"
"You," Dante said, stepping closer until I could feel the heat radiating from him against the chill of the lake. "Rossi knew you were my weakness. I had kept you hidden in that penthouse for eight years because the moment I put a ring on your finger, the commission would recognize you as my official consort. Under the old Chicago charter, the wife of a boss is fair game for blood retaliation during an open dispute. If I married you, every sniper in the Midwest would have aimed at your forehead."
"So you lied to me?" The tears finally spilled over my eyelashes, burning hot on my cheeks. "You let me feel like a dirty secret for eight years because of a mafia rule?"
"I was keeping you alive!" Dante roared, the control finally snapping. "Every time you asked for a wedding, my chest tore open. I wanted to give you everything! But I couldn't announce you to the world until Rossi was six feet under! And then your father made his move."
He pointed a finger at the second document in the folder. It was a binding alliance contract, signed by Victoria Carter.
"Your sister found out about the debt," Dante continued, his jaw tight. "She came to me three days before your father died. She told me Rossi was planning an ambush at your apartment. But Victoria didn't come to save you out of sisterly love, Elena. She wanted power. She offered me a trade: she would use your father’s corporate shares to seal the shipping corridor against Rossi, saving your life—on one condition."
"She demanded marriage," I whispered, the sickening realization dawning on me.
"A political marriage," Dante spat, the disgust evident in every syllable. "A contract on paper only. She wanted the Moretti name, the black cards, the social status of being the Don's wife. She swore that if I refused, she would sign the docks over to Rossi, leaving you completely unprotected. I took the deal to build a shield around you. I married Victoria on Saturday, and by Monday night, I had wiped out Rossi's entire upper echelon."
He took another step, closing the distance between us until his boots touched mine. His large, scarred hand came up, hesitating for a fraction of a second before cupping the side of my face. His palm was calloused, trembling, and burning warm.
"I thought once Rossi was dead, I could divorce her and come find you," he whispered, staring into my eyes with an unbearable hunger. "I spent six months dismantling the syndicate. But when I went to your apartment, you were gone. No trace. No records. Victoria swore to me that you had taken a settlement from your father's estate and moved on with another man in London."
"I went to Switzerland," I choked out, leaning involuntarily into his touch. "I was throwing up every morning. I had no money, Dante. I worked three jobs while my belly grew because I thought the man I gave eight years of my youth to had traded me in for my own sister."
Dante looked toward the SUV again. Through the glass, Leo was holding his toy airplane, watching his father with those identical gray eyes.
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"I never touched her, Elena," Dante swore, his thumb sweeping a tear from my cheek. "In three years of marriage, Victoria has never spent a single night in my room. We live in separate wings. She gets an allowance, and I get the Carter docks. But that sham ends today."
Before I could answer, the sharp blare of a horn shattered the silence. A white sports car came skidding around the marina corner, its high beams cutting through the afternoon gloom.
