Chapter 6
711 Words
Dante's car was a sleek black Aston Martin that purred rather than roared when he started the engine. The leather seats were buttery soft against my skin, and the interior smelled of expensive cologne and new car.
"Where are you staying?" he asked as we pulled away from the restaurant.
I hesitated, then gave him the name of my modest hotel. His expression remained neutral, but I saw his fingers tighten slightly on the steering wheel.
"That's in a rough area," he commented.
"It was what I could afford on short notice," I said defensively. "Someone froze all my accounts today."
Dante's jaw tightened. "Luca's doing, I assume."
"Who else?" I stared out the window at the passing city lights. "I had some emergency cash hidden away. It'll last me until I figure things out."
We drove in silence for a few minutes before Dante spoke again. "I have properties sitting empty. Penthouses, apartments, townhouses. You could stay at one of them while you get back on your feet."
I turned to look at him, suspicious. "And what would you want in return?"
His expression hardened slightly. "Contrary to what you might think, not everyone has an agenda, Vivian."
"In my experience, they do," I countered. "Especially men who offer too-good-to-be-true deals to vulnerable women."
He sighed, running a hand through his hair in apparent frustration. "Fair enough. But the offer stands, no strings attached."
We pulled up to my hotel, and I had to admit it looked even more depressing from the outside than it had when I'd checked in. The neon sign flickered pathetically, and a group of questionable-looking men loitered near the entrance.
Dante's expression darkened as he took in the scene. "You can't stay here."
"I don't have much choice at the moment," I said, reaching for the door handle.
He placed a hand on my arm, stopping me. "Wait." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to me. It was simple but elegant—just his name, title, and contact information on heavy cream cardstock.
"Call me when you're ready to talk about destroying Luca," he said, his voice low and intense. "Or when you're ready to accept my help with accommodations. Preferably both."
I stared at the card, running my thumb over the embossed lettering. "Why do you care what happens to me?"
He was quiet for so long I thought he might not answer. Finally, he looked at me, his blue eyes surprisingly vulnerable.
"Because someone should," he said simply.
My throat tightened unexpectedly. I tucked the card into my purse, not trusting myself to respond.
"I can handle myself," I said instead, pushing open the car door. "But... thank you for dinner."
He nodded, watching as I stepped out. "Be careful, Vivian."
"Always am," I replied, shutting the door behind me.
I waited until his car disappeared around the corner before heading inside, nodding at the bored desk clerk as I passed. Once in my room, I locked and chained the door, then sank onto the edge of the bed.
The events of the day crashed over me like a tidal wave—signing the divorce papers, walking out on Luca, the scene at the event, the kiss with Dante, his strange proposition.
I pulled his business card from my purse and stared at it. Dante Moretti, CEO of Vanguard Corp. A man with resources, influence, and apparently a vendetta against his own nephew. A man who claimed to have watched me suffer for years. A man who kissed me like he meant it.
Destroying Luca's life. The thought should have horrified me. After all, I'd spent ten years trying to build him up, support him, love him. But now, remembering the sting of his palm against my face this morning, the casual cruelty of his mother and sister, the years of subtle degradation and control... the idea didn't seem so terrible.
I set the card on the nightstand and lay back on the bed, staring at the water-stained ceiling. Dante Moretti was dangerous—that much was obvious. Getting involved with him would be playing with fire.
But after ten years of freezing in Luca's shadow, maybe a little fire was exactly what I needed.
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