Chapter 7 - A Taste of the Underworld|
The truce between us shifted after that night in the library. Nathan didn't touch me, but the charged electricity between us was suffocating. Every shared glance across the dinner table felt like a match struck near gasoline.
Two days later, a long black box arrived in my room. Inside was a floor-length emerald silk evening gown, accompanied by diamond tear-drop earrings and a pair of Christian Louboutin heels.
A note lay atop the silk: Tonight, Chicago sees who you are to me. Be ready by seven.
When I walked down the grand staircase at 7:00 PM, Nathan was waiting in the foyer. He wore a custom-tailored black tuxedo that accentuated his broad shoulders and commanding presence. When his eyes locked onto me, his breath visibly hitched. For three long seconds, the feared mafia king of Chicago looked completely disarmed.
"You look stunning, Bella," he said, offering his arm.
"Where are we going?" I asked, accepting his arm. His muscles were corded steel beneath the fine wool.
"The Chicago Symphony Gala at the Drake Hotel," Nathan replied, escorting me to the waiting limousine. "The mayor will be there. The police commissioner will be there. And so will Marcus Moretti."
Panic flared in my chest. "You're taking me into a room with the man who tried to kidnap me?"
"Moretti tried to take you in the shadows because he thought you were disposable," Nathan said, his voice dropping into that chilling, lethal cadence. "Tonight, I present you to the entire city as my consort. In the mafia, you do not touch a boss's woman without declaring total war. By midnight, your safety will be guaranteed by the law of our world."
The gala was an intoxicating display of old money and corrupt power. Crystal chandeliers sparkled over champagne fountains, while men in bespoke tuxedos talked business with politicians.
The moment Nathan entered the ballroom with my hand tucked into the crook of his arm, the room went dead silent. Murmurs rippled through the crowd like wildfire.
“Is that Drake?”
“Who is that girl with him?”
“Look at her... she isn't from the families.”
Nathan ignored them all, guiding me effortlessly through the room. He introduced me to city councilmen and shipping moguls with an air of unyielding possession. Every hand that shook mine did so with utmost deference, because Nathan’s hand never left the small of my back.
"Drake," a raspy, venomous voice called out.
The crowd parted. Walking toward us was an older man with slicked-back silver hair, wearing an impeccably tailored navy suit. His eyes were cold, dead, and calculating.
Marcus Moretti.
Nathan didn't blink. His posture remained relaxed, but I felt the coiled tension in his frame.
"Moretti," Nathan greeted smoothly. "Enjoying the music?"
"The symphony is delightful," Moretti purred, his predatory eyes sliding to me. "Though I see you've brought a new flower to the garden. Miss Carter, isn't it? Quite a leap from scrubbing toilets to wearing Cartier diamonds."
Nathan took a half-step forward, shielding me slightly. "Watch your tongue, Marcus. Miss Carter is under my personal protection. Anyone who looks at her sideways will find their ships sinking at the bottom of the lake."
May you like
Moretti smiled thinly, showing yellowed teeth. "Careful, Nathan. When a king builds a castle around a common girl, all it takes is one small stone to bring the whole kingdom crashing down."
Nathan leaned in close, his voice a razor blade against Moretti's ear. "Try me."
