Chapter 9
Within ninety seconds, the expansive grand salon was completely empty, save for Dante, Isadora, Nora, Walter, Poppy, and four heavily armed Rowe bodyguards standing by the doors.
The heavy mahogany doors slammed shut, sealing the room and locking Isadora inside with her greatest nightmare.
"Did you truly believe you could run a psychological torture operation against my father and remain standing in my home?" Dante asked, stepping slowly toward the woman in the satin gown.
Isadora backed away from the family table, her heels clicking unsteadily against the polished marble floor. She wrapped her arms around her waist, a defensive posture that crushed the luxurious fabric of her expensive dress. Her diamond earrings shook as her aristocratic bravado finally shattered, leaving only primal terror in its wake.
"Dante, you cannot believe this is real," Isadora sobbed, her chest heaving as she tried to backpedal. "We are supposed to unite our syndicates! You cannot throw all of that away! I will apologize to him! I will serve him dinner myself!"
Dante stood immovably in his tailored dark three-piece suit. He felt absolutely nothing for her. The political affection he had feigned for the sake of the syndicate merger evaporated instantly, leaving behind a cold, calculating void that craved only survival and absolute retribution.
"Are you prepared to remove the ring from your finger, Isadora, or must I cut it from your hand?" Dante asked, his deep voice carrying a measured, lethal calm.
Isadora flinched violently at the threat. She dropped her hands, her fair skin streaked with ruined makeup. She knew the stories of what Dante Rowe did to traitors within his syndicate.
"You can't do this!" Isadora choked out, the venom returning as self-preservation took over. "My father will burn your empire to the ground if you humiliate me like this!"
"Is your father a man who fights battles for foolish, sadistic daughters?" Dante asked quietly.
"He will kill you!" Isadora pleaded. "I am going to be your wife, Dante! We signed the contracts! You cannot back out now without causing a massive war!"
"Do you expect me to harbor a sociopath under my roof to appease a shipping magnate?" Dante asked.
He didn't wait for her to answer. The heavy doors of the salon opened, and Vincent returned, carrying the prosthetic leg. He walked past Isadora without a glance, handing the limb respectfully to Walter.
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Dante reached into his tailored jacket and retrieved a sleek, encrypted smartphone. He dialed a single digit and pressed the phone to his ear. The small artistic tattoo above his collar shifted seamlessly with the movement.
"Vincent," Dante said, lowering his phone and speaking directly to his capo. "Escort Miss Reed to the holding cells beneath the east wing immediately."
