Chapter 6 - The Charity Gala and the TrapThe Drake Hotel’s grand ballroom was once again filled with the elite of Chicago, but tonight, the atmosphere was charged with a different kind of energy. This was not a family wedding; this was a gathering of predators disguised in silk and diamonds.
Ellie stood beside Dante, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm. She was wearing a midnight-blue gown that clung to her curves, her hair styled in a sophisticated updo that revealed the emerald earrings Dante had given her to match the ring.
"Smile, tesoro," Dante murmured as they entered the room. "The cameras are watching."
Ellie put on the smile she had practiced in her mirror for three weeks—a cool, elegant smile that said she belonged at his side, that she was not afraid of the whispers that followed them like dry leaves.
"Look at her," Vanessa Carter’s voice hissed from behind a pillar. "She was waiting tables a month ago. Now she’s playing queen of the mafia."
Ellie’s smile didn't waver, but her hand tightened on Dante’s arm. She felt him stiffen beside her, his muscles turning to iron beneath his tuxedo.
"Ignore them," Dante said quietly. "They are sheep, Ellie. They only make noise because they are safe behind their fences."
Before she could answer, a man stepped out of the crowd, blocking their path.
He was older, his hair silver and slicked back, his suit expensive but slightly ill-fitting. His eyes were small, wet, and cold as ice.
"Dante," the man said, his voice a raspy growl. "I didn't think you’d have the courage to show your face tonight."
"Silvio," Dante replied, his voice dropping into that quiet, lethal register that Ellie had learned to fear. "I own this hotel, Silvio. I do not need courage to walk through my own doors."
Silvio Moretti’s gaze flicked to Ellie. He studied her with a slow, disgusting intensity that made her want to scrub her skin.
"So this is the little bird from Logan Square," Silvio said, a nasty smile spreading across his thin lips. "The one you married in Cabo. She’s beautiful, Dante. Very soft. It would be a shame if something... happened to her. The streets of Chicago can be so dangerous for a girl who doesn't know how to watch her step."
Dante didn't move, but the air around them seemed to freeze. Ellie could feel the raw, violent energy vibrating off him, a beast straining at its leash.
"If you so much as breathe the air in her direction, Silvio," Dante said, his voice so quiet it was barely a whisper, yet carrying the force of a bullet, "I will burn every dock you own to the ground. And then I will start on your family."
Silvio’s smile vanished. His eyes narrowed, and for a second, Ellie saw a flicker of real fear in the old man's face.
"We’ll see, Dante," Silvio muttered. "We’ll see who has the match when the fire starts."
He turned and walked away, his men following close behind.
Ellie let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding, her knees shaking beneath her gown. She looked up at Dante, his face still a mask of stone, his jaw clenched so tightly she could see the muscle leaping in his cheek.
"Dante," she whispered.
May you like
He didn't look at her. He turned and guided her toward the terrace, his grip on her hand so tight it was almost painful.
"We are leaving," he said. "The game is over."
