Chapter 5 - The Line in the Marble
Elena did not stay in the room.
She couldn't. The terror coiled around her spine was a physical force, dragging her out into the carpeted hallway toward the grand balcony that overlooked the central foyer below.
She pressed her back against the dark wood balustrade, keeping herself hidden in the shadows of the velvet drapery, looking down at the standoff unfolding below.
Standing in the center of the white marble foyer was Dominic Santoro. He was thirty-five, wearing an expensive camel-hair coat over an unbuttoned shirt, his slicked-back hair glinting under the chandelier. Behind him stood four massive enforcers, their hands resting ominously inside their leather jackets.
Facing them, completely alone at the base of the grand staircase, stood Luca Moretti.
He wore no jacket today—just a dark vest over his white shirt, his sleeves rolled up, his posture relaxed, almost bored. Yet the ten Moretti guards stationed around the upper perimeter had their automatic rifles trained directly on Dominic’s forehead.
"You're a hard man to reach, Moretti," Dominic sneered, spitting onto the polished marble floor.
Marco, standing three steps behind Luca, twitched, but Luca raised a single hand to keep him still.
"You are trespassing, Dominic," Luca said quietly. "In my house, that usually results in a body bag."
"I'm here on official business from my brother," Dominic replied, taking a step forward. "Word on the street is you've got something that belongs to us."
"I don't hold lost property," Luca said flatly.
"Don't play dumb with me!" Dominic snapped, his composure slipping. "Elena Vance. The runaway bitch. Our informants saw her at the farmer's market three days ago wearing your family’s staff uniform. She’s been sleeping in your service quarters."
High above on the balcony, Elena squeezed her eyes shut, her fingernails biting into the palm of her hand. They knew. They had known for days.
Luca slowly folded his arms across his chest. "And if she is?"
Dominic laughed—a dry, grating sound that echoed unpleasantly off the walls. "If she is, you hand her over right now. Anthony wants his bride back. He's willing to overlook your... oversight... if you hand her over quietly. He'll even throw in a ten percent discount on your next steel shipment through the eastern ports."
Luca listened quietly, his head tilted slightly to the side, as if analyzing a curious insect.
"Ten percent," Luca repeated softly.
"Ten percent," Dominic confirmed, thinking he had gained the upper hand. "A generous offer for a maid who’s been scrubbin' your floors."
Luca took a slow step down off the bottom stair, landing softly on the marble.
"Let me tell you what I see, Dominic," Luca said, his voice dropping into a register that made the room feel as though it were losing oxygen. "I see a boy who walked into my home, spat on my floor, and offered me a discount on steel in exchange for a human soul."
Dominic’s smile vanished. "Moretti—"
"I see a family—the Santoros—who think they can treat women like cattle and cities like playgrounds," Luca continued, taking another slow step forward. Dominic’s four enforcers instinctively reached deeper into their jackets, but the sudden click of ten safety catches disengaging from the balcony above froze them in place.
Luca stopped three feet from Dominic.
"Elena Vance is under my protection," Luca stated, every word deliberate, ironclad, and absolute. "She is no longer your brother’s fiancee. She is no longer a debt to be collected. If Anthony wants to see her again, he will have to come through me."
Dominic stared at Luca, his face flushing dark red with rage. "You're breaking the treaty over a girl? The Commission will destroy you for this, Luca!"
"Let them try," Luca replied calmly.
He reached out, grabbing Dominic by the collar of his expensive camel-hair coat. With terrifying, effortless strength, Luca yanked the grown man forward, slamming him face-first against the nearest marble pillar.
Dominic shrieked as his nose shattered against the stone, blood spraying across the white surface.
Luca leaned close to Dominic’s ear, his tone dropping into a lethal whisper that reached all the way up to Elena on the balcony.
"Tell your brother," Luca hissed, "that if I see another Santoro soldier in this city, I will send him back to Manhattan in five different boxes. Now get out of my house."
Luca shoved him backward. Dominic stumbled, clutching his bleeding face, his eyes wide with pure, unadulterated shock and fury.
"You're dead, Moretti!" Dominic choked out through his ruined nose. "You hear me? You're a dead man!"
The enforcers dragged their bleeding leader out through the grand oak doors, slamming them shut behind them.
Silence descended upon the foyer once more.
Luca stood in the center of the hall, wiping a drop of blood from his cuff with a white handkerchief. He tossed the cloth onto the floor, then slowly raised his head.
His dark eyes looked straight up toward the shadow of the drapery on the second-floor balcony.
May you like
He knew she had been watching the entire time.
"Elena," Luca called out softly. "Come down."
