Chapter 5 - The Gala of Knives
The ballroom of the Grand Harbor Hotel was a sea of crystal chandeliers, black tuxedos, silk gowns, and hidden weapons.
When the heavy oak doors opened and Leo Moretti walked in, the orchestra seemed to stumble for a beat. Conversation died down to a sharp, electric hum.
Leo looked magnificent in a custom black velvet tuxedo, his dark hair styled back, his presence radiating absolute authority.
But it was the woman on his arm that drew every eye in the room.
Nora wore a floor-length emerald green silk gown that Leo had ordered directly from Milan. Her dark hair was styled in an elegant updo, exposing the graceful line of her neck and the diamond necklace—a Moretti family heirloom—glimmering against her collarbone.
She held her head high, her hand resting firmly on Leo’s forearm, forcing her legs not to shake as the most dangerous men in New England stared at her.
"Breathe, mia cara," Leo whispered, his lips brushing against her ear, sending a shiver through her body. "They are staring because you are the most beautiful thing this room has ever seen. And because they know I would burn this building to the ground if any of them looked at you the wrong way."
"You're not helping my nerves, Leo," she murmured back, though a small, helpless smile touched her lips.
"I don't want you relaxed," he purred softly. "I want you sharp."
As they moved through the crowd, men in three-piece suits bowed their heads respectfully to Leo. District attorneys, judges, and shipping magnates spoke to him in hushed, terrified tones, while their wives looked at Nora with a mixture of envy and pity.
Then, the crowd parted.
A tall, broad-shouldered man with silver hair, a jagged scar across his cheek, and a dark wool suit stepped into their path.
Liam O’Connell. The head of the Irish syndicate.
Behind him stood four heavy-set enforcers, their hands tucked inside their jackets.
"Moretti," Liam said, his voice like gravel grinding under a boot. "I didn't think you'd have the balls to show your face after what happened at Pier 4 on Tuesday."
Leo didn't flinch. He didn't tighten his grip. He simply looked at Liam with calm, lethal indifference.
"Pier 4 was a business adjustment, Liam," Leo said smoothly. "You exceeded your territory. I corrected it."
Liam’s dark eyes flicked to Nora, scanning her from her diamond necklace down to her silk heels. A cruel, ugly grin spread across his face.
"So this is the little waitress," Liam sneered. "Garrett’s collateral. You paid two hundred grand for a girl who used to wipe down greasy tables for five bucks an hour, Moretti? She must be exceptionally talented in bed."
Before Nora could register the insult, a terrifying sound filled the space around them.
Click.
It wasn't a gun. It was the sound of Leo’s silver pocket watch snapping shut.
In a fraction of a second, before anyone in the ballroom could react, Leo stepped forward. His left hand shot out like a striking viper, gripping Liam O’Connell by the throat and slamming the massive Irishman backward into a heavy marble pillar.
Glasses shattered on a nearby table. Women screamed.
The four Irish enforcers pulled their weapons, but before their barrels could clear their jackets, Viktor and six Moretti guards had six silenced pistols pressed directly against the enforcers' skulls.
The ballroom went dead silent.
Leo leaned over Liam, his forearm pinned across the older man’s windpipe. Leo’s face was completely calm, completely devoid of emotion—and that made him ten times more horrifying.
"Listen to me very carefully, Liam," Leo whispered, his voice carrying clearly across the silent ballroom. "If you ever speak her name again... if you ever look in her direction... if you even think about her while you are on your knees praying to God... I will exterminate your entire family. I will erase the O’Connell name from the history of this city. Do you understand me?"
Liam gasped for air, his face turning purple, his eyes wide with genuine, primitive terror. He nodded rapidly.
Leo released him. Liam collapsed onto the polished floor, coughing violently, clutching his neck.
Leo turned back to Nora, adjusting his cuffs casually, as if he had merely cleared his throat. He offered her his arm once more.
"Shall we get a drink, my love?" he asked softly.
Nora looked at the kneeling mob boss, then at the silent, terrified crowd, and finally up into Leo’s dark eyes.
She didn't shrink away. She didn't scream.
May you like
She stepped forward, placed her hand securely back on his arm, and met his gaze with absolute, unyielding clarity.
"I'd love a drink, Leo," she said.
