Chapter 10 - The Lion's Den
The revelation left me dizzy. My entire childhood, my family's poverty, my father’s sudden death—it had all been a fabricated lie designed to keep me oblivious and compliant.
"I don't have any ledger," I said desperately, clutching my head. "He left me nothing! A box of old fishing lures, some paperback novels, and an antique gold pendant that won't even open!"
Dante’s eyes narrowed with sudden, razor-sharp focus. "The pendant. Where is it?"
"In my safety deposit box at the downtown branch," I answered, my heart racing. "I haven't opened it in five years."
"Then that's where the key is," Dante declared. "And Moretti knows it. His men have likely been watching that bank since yesterday morning."
Marco entered the room, knocking once on the doorframe. "Boss. Intelligence reports Moretti is hosting his annual midsummer gala tonight at the Grand Plaza Hotel. Every major political figure, foreign investor, and syndicate leader will be under that roof. Security will be impenetrable."
Dante stood tall, an icy smile touching his lips. "Impenetrable for an enemy army. Not for an invited guest."
"You're going to his gala?" I asked, incredulous. "He just tried to blow you off a cliff and slaughter your entire compound!"
"In our world, Cara, when someone takes a shot at the king and misses, you don't hide in a bunker," Dante replied, turning to me with an aura of pure, predatory intent. "You put on a tuxedo, walk into their dining room, and look them in the eye while you dismantle everything they love."
He looked at Marco. "Get the best dressmaker in the city up here immediately. Black silk, backless, high neck. And contact our team at the federal district bank."
"Wait," I interjected, stepping between them. "What does a dressmaker have to do with me?"
"You're coming with me," Dante said calmly.
"Are you out of your mind? I'm a waitress! I can't walk into a high-society mafia ball! They'll spot me in two seconds!"
Dante stepped forward, closing the distance between us until I had to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing across my cheekbone, sending an electric shiver straight down my spine.
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"You outmaneuvered a sniper in a thunderstorm and pulled a two-hundred-pound man out of a burning wreck with bare hands," Dante murmured, his voice velvety and hypnotic. "You have more spine than half the capos sitting at that table. Tonight, you aren't a waitress, Cara. Tonight, you walk on my arm as the guest of Don Falcone. And together, we are going to burn Moretti’s empire to the ground."
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