Chapter 5 - Whispers in the Dark
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The guest suite Dante assigned to me was larger than the entire apartment building I had lived in for the past three years.
It featured a king-sized bed wrapped in Egyptian silk, a private balcony overlooking Central Park, and a spa-like bathroom lined with white Carrara marble.
Orion trotted into the room behind me as if he owned the place, immediately claiming the plush faux-fur rug at the foot of the bed.
A knock sounded at the door, and a young woman in a crisp gray uniform pushed a cart containing a silver tray and a large ceramic dog bowl.
"Mr. Moretti requested this for the hound," she said politely, keeping her eyes respectfully lowered.
"And there is grilled salmon and roasted vegetables for you, miss."
"Thank you," I said softly, touched by the unexpected thoughtfulness.
As soon as the maid left, I placed the ceramic bowl filled with prime seared beef in front of Orion.
He didn't dive into it immediately; instead, he looked up at me with his intelligent amber eyes, waiting for permission.
"Go ahead, sweet boy," I said with a smile, patting his flank.
"You need to eat."
He dug in ravenously, finishing every single morsel before licking the bowl until the ceramic shined.
Seeing him eat brought an inexplicable sense of peace to my chest, as if an old, forgotten duty had been fulfilled.
After eating my own dinner, I took a long, hot shower, letting the steaming water wash away the exhaustion of the past twenty-four hours.
I dressed in the comfortable silk loungewear that had been left in the walk-in closet for me.
By midnight, the silence of the massive penthouse became too heavy to bear.
Sleep eluded me as questions swirled through my thoughts like a relentless storm.
Who was I really?
Why couldn't I remember my father's face?
Orion got up from the rug, nudged my door open with his snout, and looked back at me, inviting me to follow.
We tiptoed down the softly lit hallway, the deep carpets muffling our footsteps.
At the far end of the corridor, double oak doors stood slightly ajar, spilling amber light across the floor.
I peeked inside and realized it was Dante's private library, lined with thousands of leather-bound books reaching up to the vaulted ceiling.
Dante was sitting in a high-backed leather chair, a crystal tumbler of amber scotch resting on the side table.
He had removed his suit jacket, wearing only a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms.
Thick, faded scars ran across his knuckles and disappeared up into his sleeves—marks of a violent past.
Above the fireplace hung an oil painting depicting a dignified, gray-haired gentleman standing beside a champion black hound.
Beside the older man stood a teenage boy with stubborn gray eyes and fierce determination.
"That was taken three months before everything burned," Dante said quietly without turning around.
His sharp senses had picked up my presence before I even crossed the threshold.
"Julian was the only man who saw something worth saving in me," Dante murmured, taking a slow sip of his drink.
"Everyone else saw an orphaned street brawler bound for prison or a shallow grave."
I stepped into the library, Orion immediately trotting over to rest his head against Dante's knee.
"He must have loved you very much," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Dante looked down at Orion, his hand gently resting on the dog's massive skull.
"He loved his daughter more."
"And I swore an oath to him on his deathbed that I would protect her with my last breath."
Dante lifted his gaze, his cold eyes softening with an emotion that made my breath catch in my chest.
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"For fifteen years, I thought I broke that oath."
"I won't fail him twice."
