Chapter 2 - Into the Shadow of the Empire
The back seat of the black SUV smelled faintly of expensive leather and expensive cologne. The two men who had escorted me out of the restaurant sat in stony silence, their presence suffocatingly quiet. I stared out the rain-streaked window as Manhattan’s skyscrapers blurred into gray towers of steel and glass.
My mind raced. What could Dante Moretti possibly want with a tired waitress who worked sixty hours a week just to keep the lights on? More importantly, what had he found in my background that he deemed "impossible"?
The car turned down a private, gated drive in a secluded enclave overlooking the Hudson River. Wrought-iron gates swung open automatically, revealing a sprawling, fortress-like estate that looked like a modern European castle. Armed guards stood at strategic intervals, their dark uniforms blending into the overcast morning.
When the SUV came to a halt, the door beside me clicked open.
"Step out, Miss Marshall," the guard in the front seat commanded, his voice devoid of warmth.
I swallowed hard, smoothed down my simple black skirt and blouse, and stepped out onto the polished cobblestone courtyard. Before I could take a breath, the heavy oak front doors of the mansion swung open.
There he stood. Dante Moretti in the daylight was even more imposing than he had been in the shadows of the restaurant. Wearing a crisp white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, exposing lean, corded muscle and faint silver scars, he looked every bit the apex predator of the city.
And right beside him, sitting on the grand stone steps with his amber eyes fixed intently on the driveway, was Orion.
The moment the massive hound saw me, his tail gave a vigorous thud against the stone. He scrambled up, his claws clicking against the pavement as he sprinted across the courtyard.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat as the massive black beast barreled toward me. The guards on either side of me instantly tensed, their hands dropping toward their holsters.
"Orion, stay," Dante commanded, his voice low and authoritative.
The dog didn't stop. He bypassed Dante entirely, bounded up to me, and planted his heavy front paws right against my waist, letting out a soft, ecstatic whine as he shoved his wet nose against my cheek.
I couldn't help it—I laughed, wrapping my arms around his thick neck and burying my face in his soft fur. "Hey there, big guy. I missed you too."
Behind us, a collective intake of breath echoed through the courtyard. I looked up to see Dante’s bodyguards staring in absolute, unconcealed disbelief. Orion hadn’t allowed a living soul outside of Dante—and occasionally his lead enforcer—to touch him in four years. Let alone jump up in sheer joy.
Dante walked slowly down the steps, his hands tucked casually into his trouser pockets. His gray eyes swept over the two of us, narrowing slightly as he processed the scene.
"In all the years I've owned him," Dante said, his voice a rich, baritone rumble that vibrated through the crisp air, "he has never once approached a stranger. And he has certainly never let anyone hold him like that."
"I told you," I said softly, gently stepping back while keeping a hand resting on Orion's broad head, "we have an understanding. Now, can someone please tell me why I was dragged out of my restaurant at eight in the morning?"
May you like
Dante held my gaze for a long, agonizing moment. The air between us crackled with an unreadable tension.
"Because, Olivia," Dante said, gesturing toward the heavy oak doors, "inside my study, there is a file on your desk. And in that file is a name, a date, and a truth that changes everything. Come inside."
