Chapter 9 - The Stolen Watch

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Dante instantly let go of Lena, his mask of cold indifference snapping back into place. Lena scrambled backward, smoothing her dress and wiping her eyes.
“Enter,” Dante barked.
The doors opened, and the Head of Security stepped inside, looking extremely uncomfortable. Behind him stood Vivian, a triumphant smirk plastered across her perfectly contoured face.
“What is the meaning of this?” Dante demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous rumble.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Mr. Vale,” the security chief said. “But Miss Vivian reported a theft from her suite. A diamond Patek Philippe watch.”
“And you decided to search my room for it?” Dante asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Not your room, Dante,” Vivian said, stepping forward. “Hers.”
Vivian pointed a manicured finger directly at Lena. “She was the last person seen on the security cameras walking past my suite. I knew you were too trusting, Dante. You brought a desperate, poor little maid into your inner circle, and she couldn't resist the temptation.”
Lena’s blood ran cold. “I didn't take anything. I haven't been near your suite.”
“Then you won't mind if they search your quarters,” Vivian sneered.
Dante looked at Lena. He didn't ask if she did it. He knew she hadn't. He knew this was a play.
“Search it,” Dante ordered the security chief.
The man walked into the adjoining room that served as Lena’s quarters. Less than a minute later, he emerged holding a glittering diamond watch.
“I found it stuffed inside her duffel bag under the bed, Boss,” the guard reported.
Vivian gasped with fake horror. “I knew it! She’s a thief! Call the police immediately and have her arrested. Or better yet, Dante, have your men throw her out into the street where she belongs.”
Lena stared at the watch, her heart hammering in her throat. She looked at Dante, terrified that he would believe the lie. In the mafia, stealing from the family was a death sentence.
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Dante stared at the watch in the guard's hand. Then, he looked at Vivian.
A slow, terrifying smile spread across Dante’s face. It was the smile of a predator watching its prey step willingly into a trap.