Chapter 2
Before Megan’s trembling fingers could make contact with the keys, a tiny, determined figure pushed through the crowd of towering adults. Felix Whitmore, Dante’s three-year-old toddler son, waddled toward the piano. He possessed round, rosy cheeks, soft curls, and a small dimple that usually held a bright smile. Tonight, he wore a little navy velvet jacket over a cream knitted shirt, red tartan trousers, and tiny brown boots.
Felix looked up, his clear eyes catching sight of an imposing figure approaching from the other side of the salon. Dante Whitmore moved through the crowd like a shark through water. The thirty-three-year-old mafia boss was a devastatingly handsome, masculine man with broad shoulders and a sharp, angular jaw. His naturally swept-back hair and extremely short stubble gave him a rugged edge that contrasted heavily with his tailored dark three-piece suit. Artistic tattoos utilizing negative space decorated his hands and fingers, and a small, intricate tattoo appeared just above his crisp collar.
Felix pointed a small finger toward the raised keyboard cover of the piano, his toddler mind recalling the horrific incident from that afternoon.
"Auntie shut," Felix said softly, the natural toddler pauses making his words distinct and devastating. "Mommy owie."
Dante stopped dead in his tracks beside the piano. He looked down at his son, then at Megan’s heavily bandaged hands hovering over the keys. The air in the room seemed to freeze. Every guest in the immediate vicinity fell dead silent, the hush spreading like wildfire until the entire luxurious salon was completely muted.
Dante gently reached out, his tattooed hands taking Megan’s forearms. He carefully guided her bandaged hands away from the keys and back toward her lap. He did not look at his fiancée. He looked directly at the trembling maid.
"Megan," Dante said quietly, his deep voice carrying a measured, terrifying pause. "The piano lid?"
Megan met Dante’s intense gaze. Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She steadied a trembling breath, knowing that speaking the truth in front of these people could ignite a war.
"Yes," Megan whispered, her voice carrying through the silent room. "For singing his mother’s song."
With Megan’s hands resting safely in her lap, Dante slowly and deliberately reached out and closed the heavy keyboard cover. The soft thud echoed like a gunshot. Felix immediately stepped closer, leaning gently against Megan’s side, seeking the comfort of the woman he called Mommy.
Dante stood tall, placing his massive frame entirely between Sabrina and the piano bench. He watched Sabrina with a cold, unwavering stare, his dark eyes entirely devoid of mercy.
"Dante, darling, she's lying," Sabrina laughed, though the sound was brittle and frantic. "The clumsy girl slammed it on herself while cleaning."
"Get out," Dante commanded, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it commanded the entire room.
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"Excuse me?" Sabrina gasped, her champagne satin gown rustling as she took a defensive step back. "My father is in the next room. You cannot speak to me—"
"The engagement is over, Sabrina," Dante interrupted, his voice echoing with absolute finality. "Take your father, take your men, and get out of my house before I break every bone in your hands."
