Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Dante
The door at the end of the hallway stood ajar, warm yellow light spilling through the crack. I stood there for a long time.
Alfredo had sent all the guests home. The whole manor had gone quiet, just the occasional clatter of servants clearing dishes downstairs. The champagne from the reception still lingered on my tongue, bitter as hell.
When I pushed the door open, Elena was sitting on the edge of the bed. She'd changed out of that ruined dress, wearing a soft nightgown now, hair loose over her shoulders. She looked fragile. Beautiful.
She lifted her head when she heard me. Her eyes held something complicated—fear, maybe hope, and a kind of prepared calm.
Her hands rested on her knees. Fingers twisting, then releasing.
"You came back." Barely a whisper.
I didn't answer. Just closed the door behind me. The lock clicked loud in the quiet room. Her shoulders flinched.
"Scared?" I laughed, unbuttoning my shirt, pulling my tie loose. "You had plenty of nerve this afternoon going after Miss Vitali. What's the act now? Think playing scared will make me drop my guard?"
I kept at it, watching her face drain white. Felt good, honestly. I walked to the window. Outside, the manor had sunk into darkness, garden lights shimmering on the pool like scattered gold.
"Salvador must think he made the perfect choice." My voice was ice. I watched her reflection in the glass.
She looked up. Confused. "What?"
"You were perfect today, Elena. Toasting, smiling, working every person in that room. Salvador must be thrilled." The words came out poisonous. "Makes me wonder—are you trying to marry me, or marry him?"
That got her on her feet. I saw her fists clench, then force themselves open. That restraint only pissed me off more. How long was she going to keep this up?
Every muscle in my body tensed. I crossed to her, leaned down, one hand on the headboard behind her.
She had to tilt her head back to look at me. Those eyes, so close. Lashes trembling. Corners already red.
"You worked so hard to get into this bed." My voice dropped. "Well, you made it. But I'm telling you now—there won't be a next time."
Something shifted in her. Panic, maybe. She threw her arms around my neck, pressed her soft body against mine. She closed her eyes, lashes fluttering, tried to kiss me.
"Are you insane?" I shoved her back hard. She came at me again, reaching for my hand.
I caught her scent. Memories slammed into me—red sheets, that chaotic night with Elena, everything flooding back at once.
"I..." She stammered, looking terrified but forcing herself forward. "I want to have your child."
My child?
"You've got a death wish."
The words came out cold. I saw the bathroom. Grabbed her arm and hauled her up. She stumbled, couldn't keep her footing, fell once as I dragged her forward. Didn't care.
I kicked the bathroom door open and threw her inside. She hit the marble counter. Pain flashed across her face.
"That's all your sick little mind thinks about." I looked down at her. "You can stay in here tonight and think about what you've done. You come out, I'll kill you."
I slammed the door. The lock clicked shut.
The bed was covered in those disgusting flowers. I couldn't stand it. Dropped onto the couch instead. Found a bottle on the table, tilted it back, drank deep.
Starting today, this woman who'd schemed her way into my bed was my wife.
What a joke of a marriage. No love. Just transactions.
I drained the bottle. My head started to fog. Turned over, closed my eyes, tried to sleep. It wouldn't come.
Something stirred in the bathroom.
Then came the sound of muffled crying.
I was surprised. Elena was crying? A woman that calculating, crying?
Irritation crawled through me. But underneath it, something else. Guilt, maybe. Shame. I thought about how she'd looked sitting on the bed waiting for me. So fragile. So obedient. Didn't seem like someone who'd drug a man and climb into his bed.
She'd stood up to Miss Vitali, protected the Moretti name at the wedding. Handled herself well.
She had too many faces. Who the hell was Elena? I had no answer.
"Stop crying."
I walked to the bathroom door and knocked hard. "What's there to cry about? This is what you wanted, isn't it?"
The words were still harsh, but my tone had softened. She was just a girl in her twenties. Much as I hated her, I shouldn't be such a bastard about it. That wasn't how Moretti men operated.
My voice just made her cry harder. Really pushing it. But the sound was muffled, like she had her head buried. Not wailing. Just sobbing.
"Miss Vitali came at you, you fought back. Why do you just take it from me?" I demanded. "Is this your strategy? Play weak and victimized, make me pity you, make me fall for you? Elena, that's pathetic."
She didn't answer.
"Or maybe you're just a bully? You're scared of me, but you know Vitali's nothing, so you're not afraid of them?"
My thoughts were spinning out of control.
Finally, she spoke. "I'm not."
She'd moved closer to the door. Her voice was thick with tears, but clearer now. "Dante, I'm not like that..."
"Hard to believe you."
"This marriage—you didn't want it. I feel terrible about that. I've been trying to apologize to you." Her voice broke up, coming through the door in pieces. I could picture her, face streaked with tears.
She wanted to apologize? That was unexpected.
"So no matter what I do to you, you'll just take it, because you feel bad?" I asked.
She waited before answering, like she was confirming something to herself.
"Yes. I'm really sorry, Dante. What happened—that was wrong.
So however you treat me, I can accept it.
But I don't know Miss Vitali. When she humiliated me, she was humiliating the Moretti family. I couldn't let that happen."
Her logic tracked.
But her words and her actions didn't connect.
If she knew she'd wronged me, why drug me? Her apology was a joke.
I laughed coldly. Saw right through her. "All this, and you're just trying to win Salvador's approval."
She went quiet again.
I yanked the door open. Elena sat on the floor, arms wrapped around her knees. She looked up, tears catching the light in her eyes, her nightgown falling open at the chest, showing curves.
My throat tightened. I looked away, noticed towels laid out in the tub. She really was planning to sleep in here.
"Salvador's the one you care about." My voice came out heavy. Disappointed, maybe. Lost. "Not me, Elena. You'd obey his orders and hurt me rather than fight back. That's your apology? If it is, I'm really disappointed in you."
Her shoulders started shaking again. But I was done. I left the room, drove back to Manhattan through the dark.
My newly-wedded wife, left behind at the manor. But she'd earned every bit of it.
I stayed at the company and the apartment for two days. Didn't go back to the manor. Didn't make a single call.
When Marco came to report, he mentioned Elena. "There's talk coming out of the manor."
"What talk?" I didn't look up from my files.
"They're saying you left on the wedding night. Left your bride alone at the manor. You didn't even spend the night with her." He paused. "Some are saying you've already rejected her."
My pen stopped moving.
I had rejected her. That was the truth, wasn't it? I never wanted this marriage. Never wanted her. I hated her scheming, her fakeness, how submissive she acted lying next to me.
"She chose this path. These are the consequences." I didn't care. Changed the subject to the casino situation. "How's the acquisition going? Those old bastards haven't sent anyone to cause trouble?"
"Casino acquisition's moving smoothly," he said. "Their people are cooperating. Another month tops, we'll have it all locked down. Cut off most of their funding."
"Good." Finally, something going right. My mood lifted slightly.
"But there's something." Marco lowered his voice. "Going through the casino books, we found some unusual transactions. Money flowing to Mexico. Not small amounts either. Went through three shell companies, but I tracked it to the source."
I frowned. "Mexico?"
"Yeah. We picked up some unfamiliar faces at the casino. Mexican accents. When we questioned them, they wouldn't admit who they worked for, but their movements, their reactions—professional. They're organized."
I leaned back in my chair. Fingers drumming the desk.
Mexican cartels? What were they doing in New York's underground casinos? Bad feeling stirring in my gut. Not enough information yet to see the whole picture. Like there was a thread somewhere in the dark, but I couldn't see where it led.
"Keep digging," I said. "Who they are, who they're contacting, what they're planning—find it all. And use them as leads. See if they know anything about Valentina's whereabouts."
I'd only been able to track Valentina to Mexico. Good chance she was still there. I couldn't pass up any lead.
Marco nodded, then asked, "Heading out?"
I turned to the window. The setting sun hung at the horizon, glowing gold.
I sat there, smoked a cigarette. The smoke rose, blurred the city skyline outside. Finally, I stubbed it out, grabbed my coat, and headed for the door. Said something that surprised Marco—
"Let's head back to the manor for dinner."