Chapter 2 - The Shadow of Moretti
The air inside the sleek, tinted-windowed SUV felt heavier than the Manhattan humidity pressing against the glass. My fingers dug into the fabric of my worn denim skirt, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Beside me sat one of the stone-faced bodyguards who had escorted me out of the restaurant. He hadn't spoken a single word since we left the curb, his bulky frame taking up half the back seat, an aura of quiet menace radiating from his tailored suit.
"We are approaching the estate," the driver announced, his voice clipped and devoid of emotion.
I swallowed hard, peering out the window. We had long since left the neon lights and crowded chaos of Midtown behind, ascending into the exclusive, heavily guarded enclaves overlooking the Hudson River. Wrought-iron gates swung open automatically as our vehicle approached, parting for a sprawling limestone mansion that looked less like a home and more like a modern fortress.
When the SUV finally slid to a halt in the expansive cobblestone courtyard, the bodyguard beside me opened the door. "Step out, Miss Marshall. Mr. Moretti is waiting."
My legs felt like lead as I stepped onto the pristine stone. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to turn around and run back down the winding drive, but I knew the futility of such a thought. You don't simply walk away from Dante Moretti. My manager’s terrified voice echoed in my head, along with that lingering, cryptic warning about something impossible found in my background. What could a mafia boss possibly care about a twenty-six-year-old waitress drowning in student debt and rent payments?
The heavy double oak doors of the mansion swung open before I could even reach them. Standing in the grand foyer was a man whose presence commanded absolute submission. Dante Moretti wore an unbuttoned charcoal vest over a crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms lightly dusted with dark hair. His cold gray eyes locked onto mine immediately, stripping away my defenses with a single, calculating sweep.
Before I could find my voice, a familiar heavy thud echoed across the marble floors.
"Orion," I breathed.
The massive black hound rounded the corner like a streak of midnight lightning. He bypassed Dante entirely, barreling straight toward me with an enthusiasm that nearly knocked me off my feet. Orion slammed his front paws against my waist, his warm tail wagging furiously as he let out a low, happy rumble that vibrated through my chest. He pressed his massive head against my stomach, whining softly as if scolding me for ever walking away.
"I don't believe it," a deep, gravelly voice murmured.
I looked up from petting the dog to find Dante Moretti standing just inches away, staring down at us not with anger, but with an expression of profound, unsettling disbelief.
"Mr. Moretti," I stammered, my hands still buried in Orion’s thick fur. "I'm sorry if I caused trouble. Your dog... he just followed me last night, and—"
"Quiet, Olivia," Dante interrupted softly, his gaze shifting slowly from the dog back to my face. "Do you have any idea how many men Orion has sent to the hospital over the past three years?"
"I... no," I whispered.
"Three," Dante said, taking a slow step closer. "One of them was a rival capo who thought he could buy my loyalty by bringing my favorite hound a steak. Orion broke his arm in four places and nearly tore his throat out. Nobody touches him. Nobody."
"Well," I murmured defensively, though my voice trembled slightly, "maybe I'm just good with animals."
Dante let out a sharp, humorless breath that sounded almost like a laugh, though his eyes remained fiercely intense. "Animals, maybe. But that doesn't explain the file sitting on my desk inside this house."
He motioned with a slight tilt of his head toward a set of massive double doors leading into a private study. "Walk with me, Olivia. And bring the dog. He refuses to move an inch unless you're attached to his hip anyway."
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As I followed the towering mafia boss into the dark, book-lined study, my mind raced. The heavy oak door clicked shut behind us, locking us away from the rest of the world, and I knew my ordinary life had officially ended.
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