Chapter 7
The air in the atelier was thick with the scent of spilled, expensive perfumes—rich notes of amber, cedar, and crushed jasmine rising from the shattered glass vials on the carpet. It was a beautiful, intoxicating aroma that masked the metallic tang of blood dripping from Lucian’s shattered nose.
Dominic stood patiently, his hands resting in the pockets of his tailored trousers. He looked at Lucian, his handsome face betraying absolutely no urgency despite the revelation of a massive, impending attack on his empire.
"The... the Valentis are hitting Pier 42," Lucian gasped, holding his face, his fair skin bruised and swelling. "They aren't going after the cargo, Dominic. They are going after the accounting ledgers hidden in the harbor master's safe. Luca knows that if he destroys the ledgers, your money laundering operation halts, and the Commission will vote to strip your territory."
"And how," Dominic asked slowly, his voice a low, lethal hum, "did Luca Valenti... learn about... the harbor master's safe?"
Lucian’s eyes darted nervously toward his sister, who was still cowering among the scattered cardboard boxes.
"Tell him, Valeria," Lucian croaked, his self-preservation completely overriding his familial loyalty. "Tell him what you traded for that diamond ring."
Valeria let out a shrill, hysterical sob. She pulled her knees to her chest, looking at the massive engagement ring on her finger as if it had suddenly caught fire.
"I told him," Valeria wept, refusing to look into Dominic’s cold, sharp eyes. "Luca promised that if I gave him the location of the ledgers, he would spare my brother’s life and make me the queen of his new syndicate. I didn't want to do it, Dominic! I swear!"
"You sold... my family's legacy," Dominic murmured, the pauses between his words stretching like agonizing eternity. "For a promise... from a rat."
Margaret, who had been silently comforting Ava near the locked double doors, stepped forward. Her elegant blouse was slightly rumpled from the fall, but her posture was as regal and commanding as ever.
"They have been meeting at the private airport for three weeks, Dominic," Margaret stated, her crisp American accent cutting through the whimpering of the traitors. "I had Salvatore’s men track her movements when I noticed the discrepancies in the security logs. She has been feeding Luca our patrol schedules."
Dominic turned his head slightly to acknowledge his mother’s surveillance. He was not surprised; the Caradonna women were as lethal as the men.
"Mother," Dominic said, his volume remaining soft and controlled. "Take Ava... to the car. Salvatore... will escort you... to the safehouse."
"I am not leaving you, Dominic," Margaret refused, lifting her chin. "Not while these snakes are still breathing."
"They will not be breathing... much longer," Dominic promised, his dark, intimidating eyes locking back onto the siblings. "But Ava... does not need to see... how I clean my floors."
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Margaret looked at her son’s rigid, muscular back. She nodded slowly, taking the three-year-old girl by the hand. "Come, Ava. Daddy has to go to work."
As the heavy glass doors were briefly unlocked to let the matriarch and the child exit, Dominic stepped closer to his former fiancée, the loose strands of his wavy hair shifting gently in the draft.
