Chapter 3
Domenico’s cold, intimidating eyes slowly drifted down from the luggage on the second-floor landing. His gaze moved with lethal precision, finally locking onto Valentina. She stood beside the chair where her son, Ethan, now sat stiffly in his formal clothes, sensing the catastrophic shift in the room's atmosphere. Valentina lifted her chin, trying to maintain her mask of untouchable superiority, but her fair, rosy complexion had paled considerably under her husband's stare.
Before Domenico could speak a single, measured word, a figure stepped aggressively into his line of sight.
Marcus Cole, Valentina’s forty-year-old brother, inserted himself directly between the Mafia boss and his sister. Marcus was an arrogant man, emboldened by his status as a key associate in the family’s operations. He wore an expensive, tailored suit, a flashy luxury wristwatch, and polished leather shoes. His fair skin was flushed with a mixture of alcohol and unearned bravado, his American accent slurred slightly with contempt.
Without an ounce of self-preservation, Marcus reached out. His hand clamped violently onto the lapel of Domenico’s suit jacket, bunching the expensive fabric in his fist.
The collective breath of the bodyguards surrounding the perimeter hitched.
Domenico did not look down at the hand on his jacket. He kept his daughter secured safely in his left arm, her small face hidden against his neck. He merely shifted his cold, sharp eyes to meet Marcus’s arrogant stare. He spoke slowly, with controlled pauses between his words, keeping his volume unnervingly low.
"Take. Your hand. Off my coat," Domenico said. Every sentence sounded measured, cold, and profoundly dangerous.
Marcus laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed awkwardly in the silent atrium. He tightened his grip, leaning closer, attempting to assert a dominance he did not possess.
"You coddle her too much, Dom," Marcus sneered, his breath reeking of expensive bourbon. "Val is right to clear her out. We are building a dynasty here. The girl is a distraction. The boy is the future of this family."
"You do not speak for my family," Domenico murmured, his voice dropping into a deadly, vibrating register.
Marcus scoffed, glancing back at his sister, seeking her approval before turning his arrogant smirk back to the boss. He leaned in, his voice rising in volume so the nearby guests could hear his challenge.
"She can sleep in the storage room," Marcus declared.
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Domenico’s expression did not change. Not a single muscle in his handsome, movie-star face twitched. But the air pressure in the room seemed to collapse inward. The subtle, elegant tattoos on his neck shifted as his jaw locked into place. He gently shifted Ruby’s weight entirely to his left arm, ensuring she was tightly secured against his body, entirely shielding her from what was about to happen. His right arm dropped loosely to his side, his fingers unfurling.
"You should not have touched my coat, Marcus," Domenico whispered softly.
