Chapter 3 - A Seat Beside the Most Dangerous Man in Chicago
Dante examined the silver key under the lamp on Sophia’s desk.
“No markings.”
“No.”
“Envelope?”
“Nothing.”
“Did anyone approach your desk?”
“Half the building.”
He looked at her.
“That is not helpful.”
“I coordinate a gala for six hundred people. Helpful stopped being available Tuesday.”
Luca almost smiled.
Dante did not.
“Security footage?”
“Reviewing it.”
Sophia watched Dante turn the key between his fingers.
“You think this is connected to the seating chart?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because coincidences usually become expensive around me.”
That was the most Dante Moretti sentence Sophia had ever heard.
Luca’s phone rang.
He stepped away.
Sophia lowered her voice.
“Should I be worried?”
Dante looked at her.
“Yes.”
She hadn't expected that answer.
Most men would have softened it.
Dante simply told the truth.
Oddly, it made her trust him more.
That evening, the foundation hosted a private donor dinner.
Sophia expected to spend it behind the registration desk.
Instead, Dante changed the seating arrangement.
Her new chair was beside his.
Sophia stared at the place card.
“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“There are senators here.”
“They’ll survive.”
“Board members.”
“They may not.”
“Dante.”
It was the first time she had used his first name directly.
They both noticed.
Sophia quickly corrected herself.
“Mr. Moretti.”
“Too late.”
His mouth almost curved.
Sophia hated how easily that expression affected her.
The dinner began.
Dante’s reputation filled the room before he did.
Men twice his age stood when he approached.
Women lowered their voices.
Businessmen watched him as though a single careless sentence might cost them millions.
Yet beside Sophia, Dante was unexpectedly quiet.
He noticed when her water glass was empty.
He moved a candle because smoke bothered her.
He remembered she had requested vegetarian dishes for two elderly donors without checking his notes.
None of those things fit the man Chicago whispered about.
Halfway through dinner, a gray-haired businessman named Vincent Rizzo arrived late.
Sophia recognized him from the guest files.
Real-estate developer.
Multiple companies.
Long-standing rivalry with the Morettis.
Rizzo greeted Dante without warmth.
“Still collecting respectable people for photographs?”
Dante leaned back.
“Still confusing invitations with importance?”
Sophia nearly choked on her water.
Rizzo’s eyes shifted toward her.
“And who is this?”
“Sophia Bennett.”
Dante answered before she could.
“She runs the foundation gala.”
“Pretty assistant.”
Sophia smiled.
“Event director.”
Rizzo looked amused.
“Same difference.”
“No,” Dante said.
The table went quiet.
“It isn’t.”
Rizzo studied him.
Then Sophia.
Something calculating entered his eyes.
“Of course.”
Dinner continued.
Twenty minutes later, Sophia noticed Rizzo’s assistant leave the room.
The man walked toward the restricted gallery corridor.
She frowned.
That section contained donor records and sealed auction items.
Sophia quietly stood.
Dante caught her wrist beneath the table.
“Where?”
“Bathroom.”
His eyes said he didn't believe her.
Sophia smiled sweetly.
“Would you like details?”
He released her.
She followed the assistant.
At the end of the hallway, she saw him standing near an old walnut display cabinet.
He glanced around.
Inserted something into the lock.
Sophia stopped.
A silver key.
The same shape as the one left on her desk.
The cabinet opened.
The man removed a thin leather ledger.
Sophia stepped backward.
Her heel clicked against marble.
He turned.
Their eyes met.
For one second, neither moved.
Then the assistant ran.
Sophia chased him.
“Security!”
He disappeared through a service door.
Sophia reached the cabinet.
Empty.
Except for a torn piece of paper.
She picked it up.
Numbers.
Dates.
Foundation account codes.
Dante appeared behind her with Luca.
“What happened?”
Sophia showed them.
“Rizzo’s assistant took something.”
Dante looked at the cabinet.
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because that cabinet hasn’t been opened in eight years.”
Sophia slowly held up the paper.
“What was inside?”
Dante did not answer immediately.
Luca did.
“Financial records.”
Sophia’s stomach tightened.
“From what?”
Dante looked toward the service door.
“The year my father died.”
The significance in his voice made Sophia understand that whatever had begun with a seating chart was no longer about the gala.
Rizzo’s assistant had not stolen something valuable.
He had stolen something dangerous.
Dante turned to Luca.
“Lock the estate down.”
Sophia stepped closer.
“What exactly was in that ledger?”
Dante looked at her.
“Names.”
“What names?”
“People who worked with my father.”
“That doesn’t explain why someone would threaten me.”
“No.”
His expression became unreadable.
“But this might.”
He took the torn paper from her.
At the bottom, beneath the account numbers, one handwritten surname appeared.
BENNETT
Sophia stared at it.
Her pulse slowed.
“My father’s last name was Bennett.”
Dante’s eyes did not leave hers.
“What was his first name?”
“Thomas.”
For the first time since Sophia had met him, Dante Moretti looked genuinely stunned.
Because he knew that name.
May you like
And whatever Thomas Bennett had done years ago had just dragged his daughter into a war she never knew existed.
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