5. Lena #2
He touches my hand again. I yank it back. He purses his lips, clearly pissed off.
“You’re wasting your time,” he says, voice low, eyes gleaming. The Mayor’s here just to smile for the cameras. I’m the one pulling the strings at City Hall. And you, such a sharp reporter, I really thought you’d figured that out by now.”
I want to believe it’s another one of his lies.
But what if it’s not? What if the Mayor is already in Anton’s pocket and silenced by Rinaldi family money? It wouldn’t be the first time politics bent to cash.
I stay still. Let him think I’m considering it.
That he’s still in control. I study his face, then glance past his shoulder, straight at the group around Mayor Lang.
The Mayor catches my eye. Just for a second, through all the noise and movement, our eyes lock.
What if I reach him, and he shuts me down in front of everyone?
What if this is my one shot… and I blow it?
Anton follows my gaze. His expression barely changes, but I know he’s seen it, too. He leans in, his voice dipping into that syrupy, poisonous tone I know too well.
“Think carefully, Lena. No one likes a scene. You’ll only draw the wrong kind of attention.”
He pauses, just long enough to let the warning sink in. Then adds, with a smile so fake it almost cracks, “I’ll bring him in for you, so you can see just how na?ve you are.”
I feel his breath on my cheek. He’s so close it makes my stomach turn.
I dig my nails into my palm, anchoring myself.
The only reason I don’t shove him away is because I know he wants that, to see me lose control.
I won’t give him the satisfaction. I inhale slowly, collect myself, and turn.
Without a word, I walk toward the door he pointed to.
It’s tucked to the side, near the end of the main hall, quiet, out of view.
Behind me, the gala hums on: clinking glasses, polite laughter, polished charm.
I open the door and step inside. The room is small, with just a long conference table and a few closed cabinets that line the walls, closed and untouched.
Everything’s impersonal, like no one’s ever really used it.
Outside, the party is just a faint murmur through the walls.
I set my purse on the table, pull out my phone, hit record, and slip it back inside, leaving the zipper just barely open.
If Anton doesn’t show up with the Mayor, I have a backup plan: get him talking. Even one slip, one compromising sentence, would be enough. I’ll walk out and cause the kind of scene he dreads more than I do. In front of the Mayor. He won’t be able to ignore me then.
I keep my eyes on the door, listening hard for any sound, footsteps or voices, anything that might mean Anton's back with Mayor Lang. But the hallway stays silent. Then the door swings open without warning. Anton walks in alone, wearing that polished, calculated smile that’s always made him feel dangerous. Of course, he didn’t bring the Mayor.
“You bastard.” The words slip out before I can stop them.
“This ends here. I’m speaking to the Mayor now, whether you’re in my way or not. You don’t get to control this anymore, Anton."
“God, Lena, you really don’t know when to quit, do you?”
He steps closer. Good. Let him try.
“You were nothing back then, and you’re still nothing now,” he mutters through clenched teeth.
The past hits like a punch to the gut—university, the scandal, how he walked away clean while I was left humiliated, blamed, and pushed out of everything I’d built.
He grabs my arm, his fingers digging in, sharp and bruising.
“You should’ve stayed gone, Lena. You left once, and you should’ve never come back.
This city isn’t for people like you. You’ll never win. ”
I stay still, every muscle coiled. My jaw locks, tension buzzing just beneath the surface. But I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me break. My phone is recording. All I need is one slip, just enough to expose him.
“You act like you’ve got power, Anton,” I say, voice calm, every word edged.
“But you’re nothing more than a glorified errand boy.
And you know it. That’s what eats at you, doesn’t it?
That the Mayor can’t stand you. That he’ll be thrilled to have an excuse to cut you loose.
Especially after he hears what you’ve done.
The women you hurt. The ones you thought you could silence. ”
He doesn’t answer. Just watches me with that too-still look, like he’s deciding whether to lash out or walk away.
He leans in, too close. I can feel his breath when he hisses, “You think anyone’s going to believe those women?
They wanted me. They chased me. They threw themselves at me, then turned around and played the victim the second things didn’t go their way. ”
His voice is venom now. “They took my money, tried to use it against me. I gave them more than they deserved, and still they bit the hand that fed them. Whatever happened to them… they brought it on themselves.”
He lowers his voice, almost a whisper. “I protect what’s mine, Lena. And I don’t lose.”
He lets it hang there, watching me. “I always win. But you? You’ll always be a loser.”
I swallow the urge to slap that smug mouth of his, forcing down my disgust and letting the moment pass. Instead, I keep my expression soft, my posture still, and let him believe I’m vulnerable. Let him think I’m breaking.
Then I see it, his eyes drop to my lips, a calculated move. He’s going for a kiss. I wait for it. In my head, I count down. Three… two… one… His hands slide up, fingers brushing my neck. He tilts my chin up as I watch his jaw tremble with anticipation, already savoring the moment.
I keep the nausea balled in my throat and shift my weight.
Anton’s so focused on getting close, so mesmerized by the idea of me yielding, that he completely ignores what my body’s capable of.
I adjust my stance, subtle and precise. One hand presses into the edge of the table for leverage, the other leg angling into position.
He’s forgotten that I’ve already put him in the ER once.
The second he leans in, I’m going to slam my knee into his balls hard enough to make him scream. He’s going to howl. And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.
But then the door bursts open.
Of course. Dominic to the rescue .
My walking curse in a perfectly tailored suit, always crashing in at the worst possible moment.
He looks furious. Jaw tight, with steps fast and brutal, eating the distance between us.
There’s something feral in the way he moves, like he’s seconds from tearing Anton apart with his bare hands.
Anton’s grip falters the moment he sees him.
“Take your hands off my fiancée.” Dominic’s voice is low. It doesn’t rise. It doesn’t have to.
In one swift motion, he yanks Anton off me and slams him against the wall. The crack echoes through the room, followed by the sharp wheeze of air forced from Anton’s lungs.
Dominic leans in. “If you ever touch her again, Anton, I’ll end you myself. No more warnings. My next move will be the last thing you feel.”
Anton slowly pushes off the wall, trying to gather what’s left of his dignity.
He brushes off his sleeves and smooths his jacket, his hands shake just enough to give him away.
He forces a smirk, but it’s unconvincing.
“Your fiancée?” he scoffs. “Come on, Dominic. Let’s not pretend.
She’s not your type. She’s… dull. Forgettable. ”
Idiot. He’s deliberately provoking Dominic. And for the first time, I’m genuinely worried about Anton’s physical safety.
Dominic’s jaw locks, and something in his stance shifts, like he’s holding back a storm with nothing but sheer will. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, even, and heavy enough to freeze the blood in my veins.
“Think twice before you ever come near her again, Anton. It’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
The air shifts, thick with tension. Anton blinks, caught off guard. He clears his throat and adjusts his cuffs, pretending his hands aren't still shaking.
“This isn’t over, Monti,” he mutters. “It’s not the time or the place.
But we’ll talk again. You’ll come to me, because one day, you won’t have a choice.
You’ll open those club doors wide and roll out the red carpet for me.
Because I’m fucking royalty and you know it.
That place you love to brag about? The one that’s ‘not for just anyone’? ”
His smirk twitches, desperate now. “Well, I’m not just anyone.”
With a long, tight breath, Anton limps out of the room, dragging his foot just enough to make sure I see it. And I do. Because I’m the only one who knows why he limps. Why it still hurts.
Dominic turns to me, his gaze quick, focused. He notices the red marks on my arm, where Anton’s grip still lingers. His fists curl tight.
“Jesus, Lena. You have no idea what kind of danger you’re in.”
I lift my chin, ignoring the tension behind his words. “I know exactly who he is. You, on the other hand, have no idea what I’m doing. So, stop getting in my way.”
I pull my phone from my bag and stop the recording. Dominic watches, eyes shifting from the screen to my face.
“That’s one hell of a way to say thank you,” he mutters. “Almost like you’re annoyed I showed up to save you.”
I shoot him a tired look, unapologetic. “Of course I’m annoyed. That was the second time I almost got to drive my knee into his balls, and you ruined it. Again.” I pause. “And seriously, what’s with this weird obsession you have with me thanking you?”
I fold my arms, still fuming. “Seriously, where the hell did you even come from this time?”
“From the main hall. I asked around for Anton—I figured he’d lead me to you. Someone pointed me to this room. And I walked in on him cornering you. Attacking you.”