Chapter 5 - The Gala of Wolves
Two weeks later, the fragile, quiet domesticity they had built inside the estate was violently shattered by the realities of Victor’s world.
“Marco Valenti is hosting his winter charity summit at the Drake Hotel tomorrow night,” Victor said, pacing the floor of his study while his lieutenant, a burly man named Frank with a broken nose and razor-sharp eyes, stood near the door. “Every major boss from Chicago to New York will be in that room.”
“It’s a trap, boss,” Frank grunted, crossing his massive arms. “Valenti’s been sniffing around your territory ever since the Gary shipment went down. He knows you’ve been quiet lately. He thinks you’re weak.”
“Let him think what he wants,” Victor said coldly. “If I don't show, it signals fear. If I go alone, it signals isolation.” He stopped pacing and turned his dark gaze toward the doorway, where Chloe stood holding a tray of evening coffee.
Chloe froze under his intense stare. “Mr. Russo?”
“Frank, leave us,” Victor ordered.
Frank cast a curious, sharp look at Chloe before nodding respectfully and stepping out, closing the heavy doors behind him.
Victor walked over to Chloe, taking the heavy wooden tray from her hands and setting it on a side table. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing a stray lock of brown hair from her forehead. The gesture was so naturally intimate it made her breath catch in her throat.
“I need a favor, Chloe,” Victor said, his tone unusually serious.
“Anything,” she replied instantly.
“Don't say anything until you hear what I’m asking,” he warned gently. “Marco Valenti is an arrogant, ruthless bastard. For three years, he has tried to force a marriage alliance between his daughter and me to consolidate our territories. Refusing her has been a constant point of tension.”
Chloe felt a sudden, sharp pang of something uncomfortable in her chest. “You want me to go with you?”
“I need to walk into that room with a woman who proves I am entirely unavailable,” Victor explained, his dark eyes searching her face. “Not a socialite. Not a hired escort. Someone real. Someone under my absolute protection.” He paused, his grip tightening slightly on her shoulder. “It is dangerous, Chloe. Valenti’s men are wolves. They will stare, they will whisper, and they will try to find a weakness in you to hurt me.”
“Are you asking me to pretend to be your girlfriend?” she asked, her heart beating wildly.
“I’m asking you to stand by my side,” Victor said softly. “You will wear a dress that costs more than your landlord’s house. You will wear diamonds around your neck. But under all of it, you just have to be the woman who sits with me in the dark.”
Chloe looked into his dark, storm-filled eyes. She thought of Tommy’s clean hospital room. She thought of the midnight hours spent holding his hand in the study. She thought of the fierce, unyielding way this dangerous man protected what was his.
“What time do I need to be ready?” she asked.
A slow, devastatingly handsome smile spread across Victor’s face—the first true smile she had ever seen him give.
At 8:00 PM the following evening, the grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel was a sea of glittering chandeliers, tailored tuxedos, and silk gowns. The air was thick with expensive perfume, jazz music, and underlying lethality.
The double doors opened, and the room went subtly silent.
Victor Russo walked in. He looked magnificent in a bespoke black tuxedo, his posture radiating pure, iron authority.
But it wasn't Victor who made the room hold its breath.
It was the woman on his arm.
Chloe looked breathtaking. She wore an off-the-shoulder gown of deep emerald velvet that clung gracefully to her curves, cascading to the floor in soft folds. Her brown hair was swept up in an elegant bun, leaving her slender neck exposed to showcase a brilliant diamond necklace Victor had placed around her throat himself an hour earlier.
She walked with her head held high, her hand tucked securely into the crook of Victor’s elbow.
“Eyes on me, Bennett,” Victor whispered softly, leaning down until his lips almost brushed her ear. “You look exquisite. Don't let these parasites see you blink.”
Chloe smiled smoothly, leaning slightly into his side. “I’m not afraid of them, Victor. I’ve dealt with Chicago landlords. Mob bosses are just landlords with better suits.”
A low chuckle vibrated in Victor’s chest. “God, I love you,” he murmured under his breath.
Chloe’s heart skipped a massive beat. Before she could process his words, a tall, silver-haired man with cold, reptile-like eyes and a deep scar running down his cheek stepped into their path, holding a glass of champagne.
Marco Valenti.
“Victor,” Valenti rasped, his eyes sliding over Chloe with disgusting, predatory appraisal. “I was beginning to think you’d lost your appetite for company. And who is this lovely little surprise?”
Victor’s grip on Chloe’s waist tightened, his entire frame turning to solid steel. “This is Chloe Bennett,” Victor said, his voice dropping into a register so dark and lethal it made the air around them freeze. “My partner.”
Valenti’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “Partner? A strange word for a man who usually walks alone. She doesn't look like an heiress, Russo. She looks... fragile.”
Chloe stepped forward half an inch, refusing to hide behind Victor. She looked Valenti dead in his cold eyes, her voice smooth and unwavering. “Fragile things break, Mr. Valenti. I don't.”
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Valenti blinked, caught entirely off guard by her quiet steel.
Victor looked down at Chloe, his eyes blazing with a mixture of intense pride and a fierce, terrifying possession. “You heard her, Marco,” Victor said softly, stepping past the rival boss. “Now get out of our way.”
