Chapter 5 - Among Lions
Three weeks passed in a blur of luxury, intense lessons, and suffocating safety.
I moved into the master guest suite of the Romano estate. My faded cardigans and worn sneakers were replaced by tailor-made silk dresses, Italian leather heels, and expensive jewelry. Under Frankie’s guidance, I spent six hours a day reviewing wiretap audio, coded ledgers, and territorial maps of the city’s underground networks.
My ears proved invaluable. Within two weeks, I had decrypted three intercepted phone calls between Gaetano’s lieutenants, revealing an illegal weapons shipment arriving at Pier 42. Salvo’s men intercepted the shipment without firing a single shot, striking a massive financial blow against the Valenti crew.
Yet, despite the luxury, the tension inside the penthouse was electric.
Every evening, Salvo and I sat together in his private study. We ate late dinners prepared by his private chef, drank vintage wines, and discussed corporate strategy and old Italian history. I learned that under his cold, terrifying public exterior lived a man of incredible intellect, deep loyalty, and a tragic loneliness born from carrying the weight of an empire since he was twenty-five.
And with every passing day, the unspoken attraction between us burned hotter.
On a rainy Thursday evening, Salvo walked into the study wearing a sharp, custom obsidian tuxedo with a silver silk tie. He looked dangerously handsome, his dark hair slicked back, highlighting his razor-sharp jawline.
“Put on something formal, Clara,” Salvo commanded quietly, leaning against the doorframe. “We are going out.”
I looked up from my laptop. “Where?”
“The Grand St. Regis Hotel,” Salvo replied. “The Commission holds its annual winter gala tonight. Every major family, judge, and corrupt politician in the state will be in that ballroom.”
“Including Gaetano?” I asked, my pulse quickening.
“Especially Gaetano,” Salvo said, his eyes scanning my face with intense heat. “He called a truce for the evening to discuss territory lines. I need you by my side. You will pose as my high-level associate and personal advisor.”
Thirty minutes later, I stepped down the broad marble staircase wearing a dark emerald-green satin gown that hugged my waist before falling to the floor in a sleek, elegant train. A modest diamond necklace glittered at my throat—a gift from Salvo that had arrived in a velvet box an hour earlier.
Salvo stood at the foot of the stairs.
When he saw me, his dark eyes darkened further. He stopped breathing for a full two seconds, his eyes traveling slowly from the hem of my dress up to my face.
“Do I look the part?” I asked softly, feeling a sudden flush of warmth creep up my neck.
May you like
Salvo stepped forward, taking my gloved hand and bringing it up to his warm lips, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss against my knuckles that made my knees feel like water.
“You look like a queen, Clara,” Salvo murmured, his voice low and husky. “Now let’s go show this city who you belong to.”
