Chapter 5 - The Ledger of Blood
The tension in the foyer snapped like a high-tension cable.
Michael didn't flinch. He didn't look back up at me. He stopped three steps from the bottom of the grand staircase, looking down at Gianni as if the man were nothing more than an annoying insect resting on his expensive shoes.
"You came into my home," Michael said quietly, his voice dangerously devoid of emotion. "You threatened a woman under my roof. And you spoke her name in front of my men."
"It's business, Michael!" Gianni snapped, his hand hovering near his jacket. "The Commission—"
"Lev," Michael interrupted smoothly.
BANG.
A single gunshot shattered the quiet of the grand entrance.
Gianni dropped instantly to the marble floor, clutching his shattered kneecap, screaming in agony as blood sprayed across the pristine white stone. His three enforcers reached for their weapons, but before they could clear their holsters, six of Michael's guards flooded the foyer from the side hallways, their red laser sights pinned directly onto the men's chests.
"Drop them," Lev growled.
The three enforcers slowly lowered their hands, dropping their handguns onto the floor with loud clatters.
Michael stepped down to the marble floor, standing over the weeping, bleeding Gianni. He kicked the folded parchment away from Gianni's shaking hand, crushing it under the heel of his shoe.
"Tell the Commission," Michael whispered, bending down close to Gianni's pale, sweat-slicked face, "that Aurora Vance is no longer Lorenzo's daughter. She is a Moretti. If anyone from Manhattan crosses the river into Brooklyn or Queens... I will slaughter every boss sitting at that table."
Michael raised his eyes to Lev. "Drag him out. Dump him on the steps of St. Patrick's Cathedral."
"Yes, Boss."
As the guards dragged the screaming underboss out the double doors, leaving a thick trail of blood across the white marble, Michael turned around and looked up at the balcony where I stood frozen.
"My office. Now," he commanded.
Two minutes later, I stood inside his study, my body shaking violently. Michael locked the door behind us, stepping over to the bar to pour himself another drink.
"Is it true?" I demanded, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock and anger. "My father... fifty million dollars in bearer bonds?!"
"Lorenzo Vance was an accountant for the Mob for twenty years, Aurora," Michael said flatly, turning around with his glass. "Six months before he died of cancer, he embezzled fifty million from the Commission's laundering accounts. They've been searching for that money ever since."
"I don't know anything about bearer bonds!" I cried, tears finally spilling over my lashes. "My father died in a public hospital! I worked three jobs to pay for his medicine! My stepmother sold me for fifty thousand dollars because we were starving!"
"I know," Michael said gently.
He walked over, stopping inches away from me. He reached out, his thick, calloused thumb softly catching a tear as it slid down my cheek. The unexpected gentleness of his touch made my breath hitch.
"I know you don't have the money, Aurora," he murmured, his grey eyes searching mine. "If you had fifty million dollars, you wouldn't have been hiding behind flour sacks with a frying pan."
"Then why did you tell Gianni I'm a Moretti?!" I sobbed, my hands reaching out instinctively, clutching the lapels of his black suit jacket to keep my balance. "Why are you risking a war with Manhattan for me?!"
Michael's hands came up to rest firmly against my waist, pulling my body flush against his broad, muscular chest. The heat radiating off him was overwhelming, grounding me instantly against the storm outside.
"Because my son chose you," Michael whispered, his head dipping down until his dark lips were brushing against my ear. "And because from the moment I saw you standing in that dark room, holding that stupid pan, ready to fight the world for a boy you didn't even know... I realized I was never going to let anyone take you from me."
My heart hammered wildly against my ribs. I looked up into his dark, ruthless face, expecting to see a mob boss calculating his next move.
Instead, I saw a man consumed by an intense, terrifyingly deep possessiveness.
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"They won't stop, Michael," I whispered, my heart racing as his grip tightened around my waist. "The Commission will send everyone."
"Let them come," Michael growled softly. He leaned down, his lips claiming mine in a deep, dark, overwhelming kiss that shattered every defense I had left.
