Chapter 2 - The Fiancée's Venom
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Lena remained frozen on her knees. The storm battered the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, but inside the room, the silence was deafening. She watched Dante’s chest heave. For seven years, the lower half of his body had been a dead zone. But right now, his eyes were locked on the steaming towels resting over his slacks with a terrifying, desperate intensity.
Before Lena could ask if he was okay, the heavy double doors of the suite swung open.
“Dante, the backup generators took forever to—”
Vivian stepped into the room. She was breathtakingly beautiful, wrapped in a silk emerald slip dress, her blonde hair perfectly styled despite the weather. She was Dante’s fiancée, the daughter of a rival syndicate boss, and a woman who looked at the hotel staff like they were insects.
Vivian’s eyes immediately darted to the floor. She saw Lena kneeling at Dante’s feet, her uniform riding up her thighs, her hand hovering just inches from the mafia king's lap.
Vivian’s face twisted into an ugly mask of rage.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, her heels clicking sharply against the hardwood as she marched across the room.
“I tripped,” Lena stammered, trying to stand up. “The towels fell, and I was just—”
“Touch him again, and I’ll have your hands broken,” Vivian hissed, stepping between Lena and the wheelchair. She glared down at Lena’s curves with sheer disgust. “You clumsy, pathetic little maid. Get out of this suite before I have security throw you off the balcony.”
Lena’s heart hammered against her ribs. She grabbed her empty canvas bag, her cheeks burning with humiliation. She needed this job. She couldn't afford to fight back.
“I’ll leave right now. I apologize,” Lena whispered, backing away.
“She stays.”
Dante’s voice cut through the room like a steel blade. It wasn't shaking anymore. It was cold, absolute, and commanding.
Vivian whipped around, staring at him in disbelief. “Dante, look at her! She’s incompetent. She threw boiling hot towels on you. She could have burned you!”
“I said, she stays,” Dante repeated, his dark eyes finally shifting from his legs to Vivian’s face. “You can leave, Vivian.”
Vivian’s mouth dropped open. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. Get out of my suite.” Dante’s tone left absolutely zero room for negotiation. “And if you ever threaten one of my staff members again, you’ll find yourself permanently barred from the Black Pelican.”
Vivian turned red, her chest heaving with indignation. She shot Lena a look of pure, venomous hatred that promised retribution, then spun on her heel and stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy doors behind her.
Lena stood near the wall, trembling. She looked at Dante, waiting for the axe to fall on her employment.
“Mr. Vale, I really am sorry,” Lena whispered.
May you like
Dante slowly raised his head. The cold mob boss was gone, replaced by a man staring at a ghost.
“Lena,” he breathed out, the sound barely audible over the rain. “I felt the heat.”
