Chapter 5
The violent crash of the scent-blotter display sent a shockwave of panic through Valeria Knox. Seeing her brother, a hardened Mafia associate, neutralized with a single, explosive strike completely shattered her composure. She was trapped in the brightly lit atelier, surrounded by Dominic’s loyal men, with the irrefutable evidence of her betrayal resting in his heavily tattooed hand.
In a surge of blind, irrational desperation, Valeria lunged forward. She didn't aim for Dominic—she knew she couldn't overpower him. Instead, she aimed for the most vulnerable target in the room.
Valeria violently grabbed three-year-old Ava by the arm, her manicured nails digging into the sleeve of the child’s white cardigan. Ava screamed again, trying to pull away from the frantic woman. With her other hand, Valeria reached desperately toward Dominic, trying to claw the instant photograph from his grip, hoping to destroy the evidence and use the child as a shield to negotiate her exit.
Dominic’s reaction was instantaneous and horrifying. The sight of Valeria’s hands on his daughter triggered a primal, terrifying wrath beneath his cold exterior.
"Let her go," Dominic commanded, though he did not wait for compliance.
He reached out with his left hand, his refined tattoos flexing, and clamped his fingers around Valeria’s wrist like a steel vice. With a violent, twisting motion, he tore her hand completely away from his weeping daughter, nearly dislocating the woman’s shoulder in the process.
Before Valeria could scream, Dominic brought his right hand around. He delivered one thunderous, open-handed slap directly across her fair, rosy face.
The impact sounded like a gunshot in the cavernous room. The force of the blow was so immense that Valeria was literally spun off her feet. She rocketed backward, her luxurious formal dress twisting as she flew uncontrollably into a massive, stacked display of empty atomizer boxes.
The display burst apart upon impact. Hundreds of small, pristine white boxes exploded into the air. Cork sample bins overturned, sending thousands of delicate paper scent strips fluttering and scattering across the deep crimson carpet. Valeria collapsed heavily among the chaotic ruin of cardboard and cork, gasping for air, her diamond earrings tangled in her disheveled hair, a bright red handprint already blooming across her cheek.
At the exact moment Valeria hit the floor, Dominic raised a single finger.
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The white American bodyguards stationed around the perimeter moved in unison. They stepped in front of the heavy glass exits of the luxury perfume atelier and pulled the heavy brass deadbolts shut with a resounding, simultaneous clack. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder, sealing the room. Nobody was getting in, and more importantly, the Knox siblings were never getting out.
Dominic stood between his mother, his daughter, and the traitors. The bright, cinematic daylight illuminated his handsome, angular face, casting no shadows, leaving nothing hidden. He was a god of retribution standing in a temple of luxury. He looked down at the ruined, terrified woman gasping on the floor, the loose strands of his wavy hair shifting slightly as he took a slow, deep breath to steady his lethal composure.
