Chapter 4

• Dante’s POV
• I had seen a lot of bodies in my life. Shot, burned, drowned. But something about Alessia’s death didn’t sit right with me. There were two kinds of deaths in this world. The ones that made you grieve, and the ones that made you question everything.
• Alessia’s was the latter.
• I sat in my study, the glass of whiskey untouched in front of me. The reports were clean, too clean. The accident. The witnesses. The lack of a body. Everything lined up too perfectly.
• Still, the news spread fast. Reporters were flooding in especially with the new launch of my newest nightclub.
• I should’ve felt relief, atleast business would boom. I should’ve been celebrating. Instead, I stood in my office, staring at the swirling amber liquid in my glass, knowing damn well something was off.
• The door swung open. Nico, my right-hand man, stepped in with a grim look.
• “You need to hear this.”
• He tossed a burner phone onto my desk. The screen was cracked, but the message was clear. A meeting request. No name. Just an address.
• I recognized it immediately. The Montenegro Estate.
• I exhaled, forcing my temper down. “Tell me.”
• “They’re requesting a sit-down.”
• Nico slid something across the desk. A sliver bracelet. Alessia had it on her right from the day we first met.
• My grip tightened. What game were they playing at?
• The Montenegro family were the few people we competed in business with in New York. We’ve been fighting for the past few months, the family that had the biggest nightclub, influence and power. And honestly I couldn’t afford to lose. I know they had been circling for months, waiting for any sign of weakness, and Alessia’s death gave them one. And if they were reaching out now, it meant they knew something I didn’t.
• I grabbed my coat. “Let’s go.”
• ……
• The moment I walked in, I felt the weight of a hundred eyes on me. The Montenegro estate was lavish, over-decorated with gold-trimmed furniture and expensive artwork that screamed new money.
• At the center of it all sat Marco Montenegro, the man with too much ambition and not enough patience. He was dressed in a sleek black suit, swirling a glass of wine like he had all the time in the world.
• Behind him stood his younger brother, Rafael, taller and more unhinged. Rafael, Marco and I used to be closest buddies not until what happpened 5 years ago. Rafael was against the bar, cracking his knuckles like he was dying to throw a punch.
• Marco motioned for me to sit. “Dante, my friend. I appreciate you coming on such short notice.”
• I didn’t move. “I’m not your friend. Get to the point.”
• Marco smirked. “Always so direct. Fine. We have a mutual problem.”
• I raised a brow. “Do we?”
• I dropped the bracelet onto the table between us. “Where did you get this?”
• Marco took his time answering, swirling his wine as if we weren’t discussing a dead woman’s jewelry.
• “You always were a hard man to negotiate with,” he mused. “But grief... grief changes things.”
• I narrowed my eyes. “Cut the shit.”
• He sighed dramatically. “Fine. Consider this a peace offering. We know you’re still... mourning”
• Rafael snorted, taking a drag of his cigarette. “Or maybe just feeling guilty.”
• My fingers twitched. One second longer in this room, and I’d put a bullet in one of them.
• Marco leaned forward, dropping the act. “We’re offering an alliance.”
• I let out a humorless laugh. “The Montenegros don’t do alliances.”
• “This time, we do,” Marco said. “You see, your wife—”
• My stomach twisted. Alessia wasn’t my wife. She never got the chance.
• “—was a powerful name, you know her dad’s history. Her death left... complications. People talking. People who might blame the wrong man.”
• I clenched my jaw. “What are even talking about Marco?”
• Marco smiled. “Relax, I’m getting there”
• I leaned forward, meeting his gaze. “What do you want?”
• They both exchanged a look. Then Marco said it.
• He steepled his fingers. “Give us the Eastside docks. In return, we ensure her name stays untouched. No scandals. Just the tragic tale of a runaway bride who met an unfortunate end.”
• I laughed, low and dark. They were out of their fucking minds, if they thought I care about Alessia’s death enough to give them my docks.
• Definitely a trap. A setup to take what I built.
• But I remained silent, keeping my expression unreadable.
• Marco tilted his head. “You don’t trust us?”
• “I don’t trust anyone,” I said smoothly.
• He chuckled. “Then think of it this way, if you don’t accept, who knows what other stories might spread?”
• Marco spread his hands.
• “It’s a small price for information, don’t you think?”
• Information? What information? Before I could respond, Rafael interrupted me.
• “Tick tock, Dante. Make a decision.” He said, his voice rough.
• It was as if the room titled for a second. What do Marco mean by information? Don’t tell me it’s about..... No fucking way, right?
• Marco leaned back, tapping his fingers against the table in an easy rhythm. It was the sound of a man who knew he was in control.
• I hated that sound and how insecure it made me feel.
• “You’re quiet, Dante,” he mused. “Unusual for you.”
• Rafael exhaled smoke, watching me through the haze.
• “Almost like you already know what happened to Alessia.”
• Silence.
• A cold, creeping silence that wrapped around my ribs and squeezed the hell out of my anger .
• Marco tilted his head, eyes sharp. “I mean, this is your kind of thing, isn’t it? A woman disappears without a trace, and you her grieving husband walks away untouched.”
• I wanted to rip that smirk off his face and beat him with it. Instead, I chuckled, low and dark.
• “If it was true, you wouldn’t be sitting here questioning me. You’d be digging through that river right now”
• Marco grinned like I’d just told a joke.
• But Rafael? Rafael was watched me with clear curiosity, like I knew something I shouldn’t.
• He slid something across the table. A manila envelope. I hesitated.
• Marco’s smirk widened. “Go on. Open it.”
• I did, and my stomach dropped. It was a notice from the Russians about the old debts my younger brother Alenjandro couldn’t pay before his death. But I remember clearing everything 2 years ago, how come I’m seeing a whooping $10 million fucking dollars.
• I clenched my jaw. “Where did you get this, Marco?”
• Marco sipped his drink, enjoying the moment. “That’s the real question, isn’t it?”
• I forced a breath, looking up. “What are you hinting it?”
• Rafael spoke again, his voice smooth. “The Eastside docks.”
• Marco leaned forward. “And in exchange, we pay up your debts.”
• Lies. I could hear them slithering through his teeth.
• I would really be out of my fucking mind if i gave my docks worth $25 million dollars to the Montenegro’s. If the Russians said my brother owe them some stupid debts, they need to come to me and I would handle it.
• I shut the envelope, stood up, and smoothed my jacket. Then, I smirked.
• “I don’t negotiate with liars.”
• Marco’s smirk twitched. And I signaled Nico and we left.