BENEATH THE BILLIONAIRE'S CRUELTY

CHAPTER FOUR

The mahogany desk where Dante sat reviewing contracts was covered in long shadows as the afternoon sun slanted through the study's floor-to-ceiling windows. Dark wood, leather furnishings, and walls adorned with books he had actually read made the space his haven. This room belonged to him, in contrast to the rest of the mansion, which had been lavishly furnished by an interior designer to impress guests.

He signed another document with a flourish, his mind already moving to the next item on his agenda. The expansion to Singapore was moving more quickly than expected. The Castellano family's shipping contracts were turning a profit. His phone buzzed, and he saw the new hotel building downtown. Marcus.

"You have a guest, sir. Victor Castellano is here."

Dante's brows lifted a trifle. Victor rarely stopped by without warning. "Send him up."

He got up, buttoned his suit jacket, and went to pour two glasses of whiskey from the bar cart. Dante was the epitome of carefree confidence when Victor walked into the study, but his thoughts were already racing. Usually, complications resulted from the Don's unexpected visits." Victor," he said, offering a glass. "This is surprising."

Without trying, Victor Castellano was a man who demanded attention. Sharp-eyed and silver-haired, he moved with the assurance of someone who had lived for decades in a world that most men didn't last year. With a sigh, he accepted the offered glass and sat down in one of the leather chairs. Dante. I hope I'm not interfering with anything crucial. Only documentation. It can wait. Sitting opposite him, Dante examined the older man's face. "What brings you here?"

Victor's smile stopped short of his eyes. "Can't an old friend come without a purpose? Victor, you are a lot of things, but social is not one of them”.

With a sound like shifting gravel, the Don laughed. "Your dad made the same statement. You realise how much you resemble him." Dante sipped his whiskey and waited, saying, "So I've been told." Victor would eventually get to the point. "I wanted to discuss the shipment coming in next week," Victor said at last. "There's been some... chatter. Nothing concrete, but my sources suggest the Volkov family might be planning something."

Dante's face remained unchanged, but his intellect became more acute. A Russian criminal organisation called the Volkovs attempted to establish itself in Aurelia City. For months, they had been pushing boundaries and looking for flaws. What sort of thing is it?

"What kind of something?"

"A hijacking, possibly. Or they might try to intercept at the port." Victor swirled his whiskey. "I'm increasing security on my end. I suggest you do the same."

"Already done. Marcus has doubled the guard rotation, and I've got people at the port who will alert us to any unusual activity."

"Good." Victor nodded approvingly. "Your father would be proud. You've created something impressive here, Dante. You've expanded beyond what even he imagined." "He left me a strong foundation."

"He left you a mess," Victor corrected bluntly. "Debts, enemies, and a reputation for being soft. You turned it around. You made people fear the Moretti name again."

Dante said nothing. It was true; his father had been brilliant but reckless. He made promises he couldn't keep and created enemies he couldn't manage. When he died, Dante inherited a crumbling empire and a target on his back. It took five years of tough choices and calculated violence to rebuild.

"I heard you acquired something interesting recently," Victor said casually. "A debt payment from James Chen."

Dante's jaw tightened slightly. "News travels fast."

"It always does. It was Chen's daughter, right? Pretty girl, from what I hear, but you keep her hidden."

"She's a servant. Nothing more."

"Hmm." Victor's dark eyes looked knowing. "And what about the lovely Sienna? How does she feel about this situation?"

"Sienna understands."

"Does she?" Victor chuckled. "Women rarely see these things the way we want. Dante's jaw tightened slightly. "News travels fast."

"It always does. Chen's daughter, right? She's a pretty thing, from what I hear, but you keep her hidden away."

"She's a servant. Nothing more."

"Hmm." Victor's dark eyes seemed to understand. "And the lovely Sienna? How does she feel about this arrangement?"

"Sienna understands the situation."

"Does she?" Victor chuckled. "Women rarely understand these things the way them to. But that's your concern, not mine."

They talked for another hour about business, politics, and the shifting alliances in the underworld. Victor left as suddenly as he had arrived, and Dante returned to his desk, but he couldn't focus.

A debt payment from James Chen.

He had tried not to think about that night six months ago when Chen had come to him, desperate and afraid, begging for more time to pay what he owed. Dante had been ready to refuse; he didn't give credit to gamblers, and Chen had already tested his patience. We'd like them to. But that's your business, not mine."

They talked for another hour—business, politics, the ever-shifting allegiances of the underworld. Victor departed as suddenly as he'd arrived, and Dante went back to his desk, but his focus was shattered.

A debt payment from James Chen.

He'd tried not to think about that night six months ago when Chen had come to him, desperate and frightened, pleading for an extension of the time he had to pay what he owed. Dante had been ready to turn him down—he didn't lend money to gamblers, and Chen had already pushed his patience to the limit.

Then Chen had offered his stepdaughter.

"She's beautiful," Chen had said, sweating despite the air conditioning. "Young, obedient. She can work in your household, do whatever you need. Just... please. Give me more time."

Dante should have refused. Should have had Marcus throw Chen out and sent collectors to seize whatever assets the man had left.

But then Chen had shown him a photograph.

Even in the picture, even with her eyes downcast and her expression subdued, she'd been striking. Something about her face had seemed familiar, though he couldn't place why. And there'd been something else, something in her posture that suggested dignity despite her circumstances.

He'd agreed. Not because he needed another servant—the mansion was fully staffed. Not because he was merciful—mercy was a luxury he couldn't afford. He'd agreed because...

Because he was a fool. Because six years ago, he'd seen a girl at James Chen's house during a business meeting. She'd been in the garden, reading under a tree, when she looked up, and their eyes had met; something had shifted in his chest. Something he'd immediately dismissed as an inconvenient attraction.

He'd asked Chen about her later, casually. "Your daughter?"

"Stepdaughter," Chen had corrected. "Amara. My late wife's child."

Dante had filed the information away and tried to forget about her. He'd been building his empire, consolidating power, and he didn't have time for distractions. Besides, he'd been seeing Sienna by then, and she was beautiful, sophisticated, and understood his world.