Chapter 10 - The Trap Sprung
An hour into the gala, while Dominic was pulled into an urgent private conference with the leaders of the Providence syndicate, I stepped onto the balcony overlooking the dark waters of the harbor to catch my breath.
The cold sea wind was a welcome relief from the suffocating perfume and deceit inside.
"He's using you, you know."
I turned sharply. Silas, Lorenzo’s chief enforcer, stood blocking the French doors, a cruel smirk on his scarred face. Behind him, two other men in dark suits stepped out of the shadows, flanking the balcony exits.
"Back away," I said, my voice level, though my heart was hammering against my ribs.
"Dominic is a dead man walking, sweetheart," Silas whispered, stepping closer. "Tonight was his final bow. Within two hours, his private motorcade will be intercepted on Route 1A. Lorenzo’s men have the coordinates, the heavy ordnance, and the bridge blocked."
Silas pulled a small, silver tracking device from his tuxedo pocket and held it out.
"Slip this into Dominic’s jacket pocket when you leave tonight. Do that, and Lorenzo will hand you a check for five hundred thousand dollars and a safe flight out of the country. Refuse... and you won't survive the elevator ride down to the parking garage."
I looked at the silver bug, then looked Silas straight in the eye.
"Do you know what Dominic taught me during the last forty-eight hours, Silas?"
Silas sneered. "What?"
"He taught me that men who use poison and ambush from the shadows are always cowards."
Before Silas could react, I grabbed the heavy crystal champagne bucket from the outdoor service cart beside me and slammed it across his jaw with all my strength. Ice, champagne, and glass exploded against his skull.
Silas roared in pain, stumbling back as blood poured from a cut over his eye.
"Bitch!" one of his enforcers snarled, lunging forward with a switchblade.
I dodged behind a cast-iron patio chair, screaming: *"Marco!"*
The French doors didn't just open—they blew off their hinges.
Dominic stormed onto the balcony like a force of nature. His firearm was drawn before Silas could clear his weapon. With two deafening, precise shots, the two flanking enforcers collapsed to the marble flagstones, incapacitated.
Dominic closed the distance, grabbed Silas by the throat with one hand, and hoisted the two-hundred-pound man off his feet, pinning him against the stone balustrade over the fifty-foot drop into the freezing harbor.
"Touch her again," Dominic growled, the veins bulging in his neck, "and I will drop you into the propeller wash of the midnight ferry."
"Lorenzo... Lorenzo will kill you both!" Silas choked out, his face turning purple.
Dominic leaned in close, his voice chillingly calm. "Lorenzo’s convoy at Route 1A was surrounded by the State Police tactical unit ten minutes ago. The coordinates you were fed were false. Your operation is over."
Dominic threw Silas to the ground, where Marco immediately pinned him with zip-ties.
Dominic turned to me, his chest heaving, his eyes scanning every inch of my body. "Are you hurt?"
"No," I gasped, my knuckles bruised from the ice bucket. "I’m fine. But Dominic... Lorenzo was here. Where is he?"
Dominic looked toward the grand ballroom, where the sound of shouting and shattering glass had begun to echo.
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"He's running," Dominic said, checking his magazine. "And running from me is the last mistake he will ever make."
***
