Chapter 4 - WHISPERS IN THE DARK
The dinner ended in a tense stalemate, with the Moretti syndicate departing under the heavy glare of Dante's guards. The mansion slowly quieted down, but the air remained thick with unexpressed danger.
Rosie returned to her room, her mind spinning from the events of the evening. She unzipped the velvet dress and changed into comfortable lounge pants and a sweater. Sitting on the edge of her balcony, she watched the fog roll over the dark waters of the harbor.
A faint sound startled her—a quiet click of the balcony door.
Dante stepped out into the cool night air, removing his bowtie and unbuttoning the collar of his white shirt. He leaned against the stone railing beside her, looking out at the water.
"You handled yourself well tonight," Dante said quiet, keeping his face close enough so she could catch his words with her good ear.
"You didn't have to say those things downstairs," Rosie replied softly. "You made them hate me."
"They already hated anything connected to me," Dante said calmly. "By claiming you publicly, I placed a shield around you. Marco Moretti is a coward who preys on the weak. Now he knows that touching you means starting an all-out war."
Rosie looked at him sideways. "And what about you, Dante? Who shields people from you?"
Dante turned his head, his dark eyes fixing onto hers in the moonlight. "Is that what you think? That you need protection from me?"
"Everyone in Baltimore fears you," she said truthfully. "They call you heartless."
"Heartless men don't keep deaf dogs alive," Dante murmured softly. He reached out, his long fingers gently catching a strand of dark hair that had fallen across her cheek, tucking it carefully behind her right ear. His touch was warm, surprisingly tender for a man whose hands ordered violence. "And they don't lose their patience every time a quiet vet tech looks at them with those intelligent eyes."
Rosie held her breath. The proximity was overwhelming. She could smell his expensive cologne—sandalwood, rain, and a hint of tobacco.
"Why did you really hire me, Dante?" she asked quietly. "It wasn't just about Titan."
Dante leaned in slightly, his face inches from hers. "The day Titan escaped into the laundry room, I came downstairs with a gun in my coat. I was going to shoot him myself to put him out of his misery."
Rosie gasped softly.
"Then I opened the door," Dante continued, his voice dropping to a low rumble. "And I saw a girl half his size, sitting in a bloody sink, whispering soft words to a monster that everyone else gave up on. I realized two things in that second."
"What?" she whispered.
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"First, that you had a courage most of my men lack," Dante said, his dark eyes locking onto her lips before rising back to her gaze. "And second... that I was never going to let you leave this house."
Before Rosie could process his words, a muffled blast echoed from the far edge of the estate grounds, followed immediately by the sharp blare of security alarms.
