Chapter 5 - The Auction That Was Really a Trap
Dante’s sister was named Sofia.
She was thirty-two, an emergency-room physician, and apparently one of the only people in Chicago who could insult Dante Moretti to his face without causing the room to evacuate.
Victor’s men had taken her from the employee garage beneath Mercy Harbor Medical Center at 1:48 a.m.
Her car remained running.
Her purse was on the passenger seat.
Her phone was found crushed beside the elevator.
There had been no ransom demand.
Not yet.
That was worse.
Dante became very quiet.
I learned quickly that his silence was not calm.
It was containment.
By four in the morning, we were inside a lakefront house owned by one of Gabriel’s relatives.
Rachel had moved the flash drive offline.
Two trusted agents were verifying names independently.
Marco was in custody in a separate location.
I sat at the kitchen counter with a blanket around my shoulders while Dante stood by a window.
Nobody approached him.
Finally, I did.
“Tell me about Sofia.”
His eyes remained on the dark water.
“She’s smarter than me.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“It’s what she would want you to know first.”
I almost smiled.
“She became a doctor because our mother died waiting for an ambulance when we were children.”
“I’m sorry.”
“People like me say that too often.”
“You didn’t cause everything bad that happened.”
His eyes shifted toward me.
“You don’t know that.”
“No. But I know guilt likes taking credit for things it didn’t do.”
He studied me.
“Who taught you that?”
“A therapist I could afford for four sessions.”
That earned a faint smile.
Then his phone buzzed.
A video.
Sofia sat in a chair.
Alive.
No visible injuries.
Behind her stood Victor Saldana.
He looked almost ordinary.
Late sixties.
Silver hair.
Tailored navy suit.
The kind of man strangers would trust to recommend wine.
“Elena Reyes,” he said into the camera.
My stomach tightened.
Dante’s gaze snapped toward me.
Victor continued.
“Your father caused considerable inconvenience.”
Dante’s fist closed.
“You now possess property that belongs to me. Bring the drive to the Black Vault tomorrow at nine p.m.”
Sofia stared steadily into the camera.
Victor rested one hand on the chair behind her.
“Dante may accompany you.”
A smile.
“In fact, I insist.”
The video ended.
Dante immediately said, “No.”
I looked at him.
“Not this again.”
“He wants both of us.”
“Yes.”
“He took Sofia to force me there.”
“Yes.”
“Which means you stay away.”
“And then what?”
“I handle it.”
“How?”
No answer.
“Dante.”
“I said I’ll handle it.”
“That usually means you don’t have a plan.”
His eyes hardened.
“I have several.”
“All ending with you walking into that room alone?”
His silence answered.
I removed the blanket.
“No.”
“This is not your decision.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Interesting choice of words.”
He knew exactly what I meant.
“Victor is after the evidence because of my father. He knows my name. He sent the video to me.”
“Elena—”
“You told me I didn’t belong to anyone.”
“You don’t.”
“Then stop treating me like property you can lock in a safe place.”
His jaw tightened.
“I am trying to keep you alive.”
“And I am trying to keep Sofia alive.”
“You’ve never met her.”
“That changes what?”
For the first time, he had no answer.
I lowered my voice.
“I know what it feels like when somebody else’s mistakes become your punishment. Sofia is being punished for yours.”
The words hit harder than I intended.
Dante looked away.
I regretted them immediately.
“Dante.”
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.”
He stared through the window.
“You’re right.”
That somehow felt worse.
I stepped closer.
“I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”
“You didn’t.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“That’s objectively untrue.”
I almost laughed.
Then his expression softened.
“Victor has used family against me before.”
“Your brother?”
“No.”
He took a long breath.
“My fiancée.”
I stopped.
He had never mentioned one.
“Years ago?”
“Seven.”
“What happened?”
“She decided she wanted no part of this life.”
“That seems reasonable.”
“It was.”
He nodded.
“I helped her leave Chicago.”
“And Victor?”
“He found out.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did he hurt her?”
“No.”
A pause.
“He sent me photographs of her every week for a year.”
“That’s horrible.”
“He never touched her. Never approached her. Just made sure I understood he could.”
“What did you do?”
“Built the reputation you met tonight.”
There it was.
The explanation.
Not an excuse.
But an explanation.
“You made everyone afraid of you.”
“Yes.”
“So nobody would test you again.”
“Yes.”
“Did it work?”
“Until tonight.”
I looked at him.
“Maybe fear was never protection.”
His eyes met mine.
“No.”
His voice became quieter.
“Maybe not.”
Rachel entered the kitchen carrying documents.
“We found something.”
She spread images across the counter.
Architectural plans.
The Black Vault.
“The federal government can’t raid the building without exposing compromised personnel. Cross has access to operational planning.”
“So any official raid gets leaked,” I said.
“Exactly.”
Dante studied the plans.
“What do you suggest?”
Rachel pointed to the auction floor.
“Victor wants Elena and the drive. We give him both.”
Dante’s head snapped up.
“No.”
Rachel ignored him.
“The drive will be a duplicate containing enough authentic material to pass an initial check.”
“And then?” I asked.
“We need Victor on record acknowledging the operation, the witnesses, and Sofia.”
Dante scoffed.
“He won’t confess because you ask politely.”
“No.”
Rachel pointed at me.
“But he may talk to her.”
The room became silent.
Dante stared at Rachel.
“You are not turning Elena into bait.”
“I already am bait,” I said.
Both looked at me.
“That’s been true since before any of you met me.”
Rachel nodded.
“We can wire her.”
Dante walked away.
“No.”
I followed.
“Would you stop saying that?”
“No.”
“That was almost funny.”
“I’m not joking.”
“Neither am I.”
He turned.
“You have no idea what Victor is capable of.”
“I know he arranged fake debt, broke into my apartment, targeted me through my job, threatened me, and kidnapped your sister.”
“You’ve seen the polite version.”
Something about his tone frightened me.
I refused to let him see it.
“Then teach me.”
His expression shifted.
“What?”
“If I’m going into that room, teach me how to survive it.”
Rachel quietly left us alone.
Dante stared at me for a long time.
Finally, he nodded.
The next twelve hours were the strangest of my life.
Dante taught me how men like Victor watched.
“Don’t look at hands,” he said while Gabriel moved around the living room pretending to approach me. “Look at shoulders. Hands move after shoulders.”
He taught me how to identify exits without turning my head.
How to breathe slowly when lying.
How to repeat a question when I needed time.
How to use silence.
That one surprised me.
“People hate silence,” Dante said.
“So do I.”
“Exactly. Most people rush to fill it. Victor will expect you to.”
“And I don’t?”
“You wait.”
“Then what?”
“You make him speak first.”
By late afternoon, exhaustion sat behind my eyes.
We took a break on the back porch.
Lake Michigan stretched gray beneath the clouds.
I held coffee between both hands.
Dante stood beside the railing.
“You should sleep.”
“So should you.”
“I don’t sleep much.”
“Because?”
“Because every therapist I could afford for four sessions would probably have several theories.”
I laughed.
He looked pleased with himself.
“Was that a joke?”
“I’m learning.”
“Dangerous.”
For a moment, everything became quiet.
Normal.
Two tired people beside cold water.
Then I remembered the Black Vault.
Sofia.
Victor.
Tomorrow.
“Why did you kiss me?”
Dante’s body went still.
“You know why.”
“I know why you claimed me.”
He looked at me.
“I don’t know why you chose that method.”
His gaze dropped toward the coffee.
“In that room, men understand ownership faster than protection.”
“I hated it.”
“I know.”
“I was scared.”
“I know.”
“You should have warned me.”
“Yes.”
No defense.
No justification.
I appreciated that.
Then he said, “I would not do it again without asking.”
The air shifted.
I looked at him.
“Good.”
Several seconds passed.
Then, because apparently near-death experiences destroy reasonable judgment, I asked, “What if I asked?”
His eyes lifted slowly.
“Elena.”
“What?”
“You are exhausted.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“You are frightened.”
“Still not an answer.”
“And tomorrow you may walk into a room full of killers.”
“I’m aware.”
He stepped closer.
“Those are terrible conditions for making emotional decisions.”
The fact that Chicago’s alleged mafia boss was being more responsible than half the men I had dated almost made me laugh.
Instead I said, “Then don’t make one.”
He frowned.
I placed my coffee on the railing.
Then I kissed him.
This time it was my decision.
No audience.
No terrified room.
No claim.
Dante did not touch me for the first second.
He gave me time to change my mind.
When I didn’t, his hand rose carefully to my cheek.
The kiss remained soft.
Brief.
Almost painfully restrained.
When I pulled away, neither of us spoke.
Finally, Dante said, “That was a very bad idea.”
“Probably.”
“I would prefer to do it again.”
“Definitely a bad idea.”
He smiled.
A real smile.
It changed his entire face.
Then Gabriel burst through the porch door.
“Sorry.”
Neither of us moved.
Gabriel looked between us.
“Actually, I’m not sure whether I’m sorry.”
“Gabriel.”
“Right. Serious.”
He handed Dante a tablet.
“We traced Sofia’s video.”
Dante’s smile vanished.
“Where?”
“Not the Black Vault.”
“Then where?”
“A property in Bronzeville.”
Rachel appeared behind him.
“We can get a team there quietly.”
Hope hit me.
“We can rescue her before tomorrow?”
“Possibly.”
Dante scanned the coordinates.
Then his expression darkened.
“No.”
Rachel frowned.
“What?”
“This building belongs to me.”
Silence.
Gabriel looked confused.
“What?”
Dante enlarged the map.
“I bought it through Moretti Holdings two years ago.”
Rachel’s face hardened.
“Who has access?”
“Six people.”
“Names.”
Dante began listing them.
Gabriel.
Sofia.
An attorney.
Two property managers.
And—
He stopped.
Rachel noticed.
“Who?”
Dante looked at her.
“My uncle.”
Gabriel swore.
I frowned.
“Who is your uncle?”
Dante’s eyes turned cold.
“Carlo Moretti.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Rachel clearly knew it.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Dante stared at the address.
“It explains everything.”
“What?”
He looked toward me.
“How Victor knew your father came to me.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?”
“Carlo was in the room.”
I remembered my father’s letter.
Trust Rachel Bennett.
And if Dante Moretti is standing beside you...
“What are you saying?”
Dante’s voice became almost empty.
“I think Victor didn’t infiltrate my organization.”
His fingers tightened around the tablet.
“I think my family brought him inside.”
And somewhere across Chicago, the plan for tomorrow night became much more dangerous.
Because Dante Moretti had spent years looking for enemies outside his walls.
May you like
The worst one had been sitting at his dinner table.
---
