Chapter 2 - The Man Everyone Feared
The penthouse occupied the entire top floor of the Meridian Grand.
Elena discovered that thirty minutes after accepting the strangest proposition of her life.
She stood before a wall of glass overlooking Chicago while three women moved around her with terrifying efficiency.
One adjusted her hair.
Another applied makeup.
The third was arranging black dresses across a bed larger than Elena’s entire bedroom.
Dante stood near the windows speaking quietly into his phone.
“No,” he said. “Tonight.”
A pause.
“I don't care what Romano thinks.”
Another pause.
“Then tell him I said it personally.”
He ended the call.
Elena watched him in the mirror.
“Who’s Romano?”
“My attorney.”
“You have an attorney available during weddings?”
“I have several.”
“That sounds reassuring.”
Dante almost smiled.
A stylist held up a black satin gown.
“This one.”
Elena looked at the label and nearly choked.
“No.”
Dante turned.
“What?”
“This dress probably costs six months of my rent.”
“Seven.”
Elena stared at him.
“That doesn't help.”
“You asked.”
“I’m not wearing it.”
“Yes, you are.”
“No, I’m not.”
The stylists went silent.
Dante studied her.
Apparently people did not often tell Dante Salvatore no.
Good.
He could learn.
“I’m not your doll,” Elena said. “If we're doing this, I decide what I wear.”
Several seconds passed.
Then Dante nodded.
“Fair.”
He dismissed the stylists.
Elena blinked.
“That easily?”
“What did you expect?”
“I don't know. Mafia-boss behavior?”
His expression sharpened.
“I never said mafia.”
“You said you control territories from Chicago to the East Coast.”
“Many legitimate businesses have territories.”
“With security guards who look like they could break doors?”
“Good employees are difficult to find.”
Despite herself, Elena laughed.
Dante watched her.
For one moment, the dangerous stranger disappeared.
Then his composure returned.
He picked up a velvet box from the table.
Inside was a diamond ring.
Elena stared.
“No.”
“Again?”
“That thing is enormous.”
“That is generally considered desirable in diamonds.”
“If I wear that, somebody will cut off my finger.”
“Not while you're with me.”
The certainty in his voice silenced her.
Dante removed the ring.
“May I?”
Elena hesitated, then extended her left hand.
His fingers were surprisingly warm.
The ring slid into place.
Perfectly.
Too perfectly.
Elena looked up.
“How did you know my size?”
Dante paused.
“Lucky guess.”
She didn't believe him.
Before she could challenge him, someone knocked.
One of Dante’s security men entered.
“Mr. Salvatore. Reception has started.”
Dante nodded.
“Carlo?”
“Already downstairs.”
“And Aldridge?”
The guard hesitated.
“Still there.”
Elena noticed the change in Dante’s face.
Tiny.
Almost invisible.
But real.
“Good,” Dante said.
The guard left.
“Who is Aldridge?” Elena asked.
Dante looked at her.
“Your former fiancé.”
“No. You said Aldridge like you meant someone else.”
Dante buttoned his jacket.
“Marcus’s father.”
“Richard?”
“Yes.”
“What do you want with Richard Aldridge?”
No answer.
Elena stepped closer.
“You said this was about helping me.”
“I specifically said it wasn't.”
She remembered.
Damn him.
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing that concerns you.”
“If I’m pretending to be your wife, it concerns me.”
That earned another long look.
Dante finally said, “Richard Aldridge and I have unfinished business.”
“What kind?”
“Business.”
Elena folded her arms.
“That's not an answer.”
“It’s the only one you're getting tonight.”
She should have walked away.
Instead, she looked at herself in the mirror.
The woman staring back barely resembled the woman who had sat in the last row.
The black satin dress fit beautifully.
Her hair was softer.
The diamond on her finger glittered beneath the lights.
But none of those things created the difference.
The difference was her expression.
For the first time that night, Elena didn't look defeated.
Dante offered his hand.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Good.”
She frowned.
“Good?”
“Only fools aren't nervous before doing something reckless.”
She took his hand.
They descended in the private elevator.
As the doors opened, music spilled into the hallway.
Dante stopped before the ballroom.
“Remember one thing.”
“What?”
“You don't owe anyone an explanation.”
Elena nodded.
“And if Vivien says something?”
“Smile.”
“If Patricia insults me?”
“Smile.”
“If Marcus asks what happened?”
Dante leaned closer.
“Smile.”
Elena swallowed.
Then the doors opened.
The first people who noticed Dante stopped talking.
The silence spread like a wave.
Elena felt it physically.
Heads turned.
Whispers vanished.
A waiter nearly walked into another waiter.
Dante stepped into the ballroom.
Elena walked beside him.
His hand closed around hers.
Everyone stared.
“What is happening?” she whispered.
“Keep walking.”
“Everyone is looking.”
Dante glanced at her.
“Let them look.”
They moved down the center aisle.
Elena recognized faces.
People who had ignored her earlier now watched her as if she had arrived wearing a crown.
Then she saw Marcus.
He was standing beside Vivien.
His champagne glass stopped halfway to his mouth.
Vivien’s smile vanished.
Patricia went completely pale.
Elena’s heartbeat thundered.
Dante subtly tightened his fingers around hers.
Not possession.
Reassurance.
Keep walking.
Elena lifted her chin.
Marcus stepped forward.
“Elena?”
She stopped.
Dante stopped beside her.
Marcus stared at their joined hands.
Then at the diamond.
“What is this?”
Vivien approached.
Her eyes were fixed on Dante.
Unlike Elena, she clearly recognized him.
“Dante Salvatore,” Vivien whispered.
Dante nodded politely.
“Mrs. Aldridge.”
Vivien flinched at her new name.
Marcus looked confused.
“You know him?”
Vivien didn't answer.
Dante turned to Elena.
His expression softened just enough to sell the illusion.
Then he faced Marcus.
“I believe you know my wife.”
The room became silent.
Marcus stared.
“Your... wife?”
Elena felt a hundred eyes on her.
She could still retreat.
Laugh.
Call it a joke.
Run.
Instead, she looked directly at Vivien.
And smiled.
“Congratulations,” Elena said.
Vivien’s face tightened.
“When did this happen?”
Dante answered.
“Recently.”
“How recently?”
“Is that important?”
Vivien opened her mouth.
Nothing emerged.
Patricia pushed through the guests.
“Elena, what exactly are you doing?”
The old Elena would have apologized.
This Elena didn't.
“Attending the reception.”
“With him?”
Dante slowly looked at Patricia.
She immediately changed tone.
“Mr. Salvatore. I didn't realize you were attending.”
“I wasn't.”
His gaze moved toward Richard Aldridge, Marcus’s father, standing near the bar.
Richard had gone white.
Dante smiled.
“I changed my mind.”
Richard set down his glass.
Elena saw fear.
Real fear.
Dante had not returned merely for her.
Richard approached.
“Salvatore.”
“Aldridge.”
“You weren't invited.”
“Neither was I the last time you interfered in my business.”
Marcus frowned.
“Dad?”
Richard ignored him.
“This isn't the place.”
Dante’s expression remained pleasant.
“I agree.”
He turned toward Elena.
“Dance with me.”
“What?”
The orchestra had started playing.
Dante guided her toward the dance floor.
Guests moved aside.
Elena whispered, “What was that?”
“Later.”
“You keep saying that.”
“And yet you keep following me.”
“That might be the worst decision I've ever made.”
“Your engagement suggests competition.”
Elena nearly laughed.
Dante placed one hand at her waist.
She rested hers against his shoulder.
They began dancing.
“You can dance,” she said.
“I contain multitudes.”
“That was almost a joke.”
“Don't tell anyone.”
Across the room, Marcus watched them.
Vivien noticed.
Her expression hardened.
“You wanted revenge,” Dante said quietly.
Elena looked at him.
“I thought I did.”
“And now?”
She looked around.
All these people who had made her feel insignificant were staring.
Yet strangely, she felt nothing.
“No.”
Dante raised an eyebrow.
“I don't want revenge.”
“What do you want?”
Elena considered.
“To stop caring.”
Something changed in Dante’s eyes.
Approval, perhaps.
“That,” he said, “is considerably more dangerous.”
The song ended.
Before Elena could ask why, Marcus approached.
“Can I speak to Elena?”
Dante looked at her.
Not Marcus.
Her.
Elena appreciated that.
“It’s fine.”
Dante released her.
“I'll be nearby.”
Marcus led Elena toward the terrace.
The doors closed behind them.
Cold Chicago air swept over her.
Marcus stared at the ring.
“You married him?”
Elena said nothing.
“Three months, Elena.”
“You married Vivien after three months.”
“That's different.”
“How?”
Marcus had no answer.
He ran a hand through his hair.
“You don't know what kind of man Salvatore is.”
“And you do?”
“I know enough.”
“Then tell me.”
Marcus looked through the glass toward Dante.
“He destroys people.”
Elena’s stomach tightened.
“Business competitors?”
“Families.”
“Marcus—”
“You think tonight is about you?”
She stopped.
Marcus moved closer.
“Dante Salvatore didn't accidentally meet you in a hallway.”
“What are you saying?”
“My father has been terrified of him for weeks.”
Elena looked through the glass.
Dante was speaking with Richard.
Richard appeared furious.
Dante looked completely calm.
Marcus lowered his voice.
“He came here because of my father.”
“I know they have business.”
“No.”
Marcus grabbed her wrist.
“This isn't business.”
Elena pulled free.
“What is it?”
Marcus looked terrified.
“My father did something years ago.”
“What?”
“I don't know everything.”
“Then why are you warning me?”
“Because whatever Dante wants, you're part of it.”
Elena’s chest tightened.
Marcus glanced again through the glass.
Then he whispered something that made her blood run cold.
May you like
“Ask Dante why he already had photographs of you before tonight.”
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