Chapter 5
The cinematic, pure white sunlight poured through the windows, casting long, sharp shadows across the reception floor. Dante did not yell. He did not lose his temper. The absolute, terrifying stillness of the veteran Mafia boss was infinitely more intimidating than any outburst of rage.
Dante slowly looked from Victoria, who was pinned in fear against the grand piano, to Adrian, who was bleeding on the floor surrounded by armed guards.
"Clear the room," Dante commanded. His deep, raspy voice was barely above a whisper, yet it resonated with total authority. "Every guest. Now."
The wealthy elites, the unassociated capos, and the house staff didn't need to be told twice. A hurried, silent exodus began. The rustle of expensive fabrics and the rapid clicking of heels filled the room as the engagement party fled the impending slaughter. Within minutes, the vast hall was empty, save for Dante, his most loyal bodyguards, the trembling Maria, and the two traitors.
Dante walked slowly toward the piano. He stopped equidistant between Victoria and Adrian.
"My wife never shared that song," Dante said, in a low, menacing voice that sent a chill straight down the spines of everyone listening. Every controlled pause between his words was a tightening noose. "How did you know?"
Victoria and Adrian exchanged one terrified, lingering glance. It was a microscopic fraction of a second, a silent communication between co-conspirators realizing they had been utterly compromised, but Dante’s sharp eyes caught it perfectly.
"He... he gave me the sheet music!" Victoria suddenly blurted out, her American accent cracking with desperate panic. She pointed a shaking finger at Adrian, her diamond bracelet rattling. "Adrian gave it to me! He told me it was an old Italian lullaby! He said if I played it, you would fall completely in love with me! I didn't know it belonged to Elena!"
Adrian pushed himself up onto his elbows, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the pristine marble floor. "Shut your mouth, you stupid bitch."
Dante turned his towering, masculine frame toward his cousin. "You gave her the music."
"It was a romantic gesture," Adrian wheezed, clutching his bruised ribs. "I wanted to help solidify the union. The family needs a matriarch, Dante. I found the music in Elena’s old belongings when we were clearing out the storage wing. I transcribed it."
"You are lying," Maria Collins spoke up again from the corner of the room, having been helped to her feet by a bodyguard. The housekeeper’s fair face was pale, but her loyalty to the late Mrs. Moretti gave her profound courage. "Mrs. Moretti didn't know how to write sheet music, Mr. Adrian. She played entirely by ear. There was nothing to transcribe."
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Dante’s sharply defined jawline ticked. The cold, intimidating aura surrounding him grew overwhelmingly dense.
"If it wasn't written down," Dante deduced slowly, looking down at his bleeding cousin, "then you had to have heard it. And if she only played it behind closed doors..."
