Chapter 4 - The Gala of Wolves
The formal dining hall resembled a palace from the Renaissance, illuminated by a massive crystal chandelier that cast sparkling patterns over a long mahogany table lined with silver and crystal.
Six city council delegates, wealthy real estate developers, and high-ranking judges sat around the table, speaking in hushed, obsequious tones as Roman entered the room.
He wore a tailored black tuxedo that fit his broad frame with lethal elegance. The bridge of his nose still bore the faint, yellowish bruising of Harper’s strike, a badge of honor he wore with utter indifference.
And by his side stood Harper.
She wore the emerald green silk gown Noah had mentioned, her dark hair pinned into an intricate chignon, her posture as rigid and unyielding as a marble pillar. Every eye in the room turned toward her with a mix of curiosity, confusion, and suppressed disdain. A waitress from a third-shift diner, sitting at the right hand of the most feared man in Baltimore.
“Gentlemen,” Roman’s voice cut through the murmur of the room as he pulled out Harper’s chair and seated her before taking his own place at the head of the table. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I believe introductions are in order. This is Harper Bennett. She manages our financial acquisitions and internal logistics.”
Councilman Vance, a corpulent man with slicked-back gray hair and watery eyes, chuckled nervously. “Ah. A new associate, Mr. Russo? We weren't aware you had expanded your management team.”
“My team expands according to my discretion, Councilman,” Roman replied, his voice dropping into a flat, dangerous register that instantly silenced the table. “And Miss Bennett possesses capabilities that most of my associates lack. She sees through fraud in thirty seconds.”
Harper kept her gaze steady, sipping from her crystal water glass. She could feel the venomous stares of the men around the table—men who viewed women as ornaments or liabilities.
As the first course was served, Councilman Vance leaned forward, attempting a patronizing smile. “Tell me, Miss Bennett, how does a young lady with such... delicate features find her way into the logistics sector of Russo Enterprises? It must be a terribly stressful environment for someone accustomed to simpler pursuits.”
The implication was clear: You’re a glorified secretary, a pretty toy.
Harper set her fork down with a sharp, deliberate clink against the porcelain. The entire table went dead silent. Even the servers froze in their tracks.
“It is stressful, Councilman Vance,” Harper said, her voice clear, cold, and carrying effortlessly across the large room. “Especially when I have to review municipal zoning permits and trace offshore campaign donations to verify whether local politicians are selling harbor clearance to rival syndicates.”
Councilman Vance’s face drained of color. His hand trembled so violently he spilled his wine across the pristine white tablecloth. “I—I don’t know what you’re implying—”
“I’m not implying anything, Councilman,” Harper interrupted smoothly, leaning forward with a predatory grace that mirrored Roman’s own. “I’m simply stating that embezzlement leaves a very messy paper trail. Just like the one leading from your reelection campaign straight to an unregistered bank account in the Caymans.”
Vance pushed his chair back so hard it screeched against the parquet floor. He looked frantically toward Roman, sweating profusely. “Dom! You’re not going to sit here and let this—this girl—!”
Roman raised a single hand.
The silence returned, absolute and suffocating. Roman turned his head slowly, looking at Vance with eyes like chips of winter ice.
“Miss Bennett speaks for me,” Roman said softly. “If she says your accounts are dirty, Councilman, then your career in Baltimore municipal government ended approximately ten seconds ago.”
Vance bolted from his chair, knocking his napkin to the floor, and hurried out of the dining hall without another word, his political career lying in ruins behind him.
The remaining guests stared at their plates, too terrified to breathe.
May you like
Roman turned his head toward Harper. A slow, genuine smile broke across his scarred face—a look of fierce, unadulterated pride that made Harper’s breath catch in her throat.
Underneath the table, hidden from the view of the terrified politicians, Roman’s warm, calloused hand found hers and squeezed her fingers tight.
