Chapter 3 - BLOOD ON THE VAULT FLOOR
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The heavy mahogany door of the estate’s private salon clicked shut, muffling the nervous murmurs of the ballroom.
Inside, the scent of leather, tobacco, and expensive bourbon filled the air.
Gabriel had not let go of my arm once during the walk down the carpeted gallery.
He guided me to a deep velvet armchair near the marble fireplace and gently pressed me down into the cushions.
“Sit,” he said softly, his dark eyes never leaving mine.
He knelt before me on one knee, ignoring the expensive fabric of his trousers against the floor.
With careful, practiced hands, he began to peel away the cheap adhesive bandages the kitchen server had given me.
I winced as the rough cotton pulled against my split skin.
Gabriel paused instantly, his breath brushing warm across my knuckles.
“I'm sorry,” he murmured, his voice rough with an emotion I had never heard in the six months of our marriage.
“It's fine,” I lied, looking down at his dark head.
“It doesn't hurt that much.”
“Don't lie to me, Catherine,” he said, continuing to unravel the gauze with agonizing care.
Beneath the wrapping, my knuckles were swollen to twice their normal size, black and deep purple with dried blood caked in the cuts.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened until the tendons in his neck looked like iron cables.
He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a clean silk handkerchief, and gently wiped the blood from my skin.
“How did you get the bags away from him?” he asked quietly.
“I used an iron fire poker from the cellar wall,” I said, looking away from his intense gaze.
“I hit the latch on the van door and took his keys.”
“When he grabbed my wrist to drag me away, I slammed the iron gate against his ribs.”
A faint, grim smirk touched Gabriel’s lips for a fraction of a second.
“You fought a two-hundred-pound enforcer with a fire poker?”
“He threatened my father, Gabriel,” I said, my voice shaking with the memory of the cold metal against my bones.
“He showed me a picture of my father’s house on his phone.”
“He said my father would die in his bed tonight if I didn't let him drive away with the silver.”
The warmth vanished from Gabriel’s face, replaced by a void so cold it felt like winter had entered the room.
He stood up smoothly, towering over me like a shadow.
He walked over to his antique desk, picked up the silver intercom receiver, and pressed a single button.
“Marco,” Gabriel said into the receiver.
“Yes, Don Gabriel,” Marco’s voice crackled back through the small brass speaker.
“Call Dr. Rossi to the estate immediately.”
“Tell him to bring a portable X-ray unit and surgical splints.”
“If he isn't here in fifteen minutes, tell him he will be looking for a new practice.”
“Understood, Boss.”
Gabriel hung up the receiver and turned back to me.
He unbuttoned his suit jacket, tossed it onto the desk, and rolled up his crisp white shirt sleeves.
On his left forearm, the black serpent tattoo of the Romano syndicate flexed with every movement of his muscle.
“Why didn't you come to me the moment you received the first threat?” Gabriel asked, crossing the room to stand before me again.
“You were in meetings with the East Coast families all day,” I whispered, looking down at my lap.
“And Elena told me this morning that I was nothing more than an expensive bill you were forced to pay.”
Gabriel went completely motionless.
“My mother said that to you?”
“She told me that a girl from a bankrupt construction family had no right to bother you with domestic squabbles.”
“She said if I lost the heirloom silver, you would finally realize how useless I was and send me back to my father.”
A knock rattled the heavy door before Gabriel could respond.
Marco opened the door three inches.
“Boss, Arthur is awake.”
“He's tied to the chair in the wine cellar.”
Gabriel reached into his shoulder holster, checked the chamber of his custom automatic pistol with a sharp metallic snap, and holstered it.
He looked down at me, his gaze holding an intensity that made my heart race.
“Stay in this room, Catherine.”
“I will be back in ten minutes.”
“What are you going to do to him?” I asked, terror for my father still burning in my veins.
Gabriel leaned down, his face inches from mine, his voice a lethal promise.
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“I am going to teach Arthur what happens to men who touch the Romano family.”
“And then, I am going to find out which member of my own bloodline gave him the keys.”
