Chapter 2
Several feet away, standing near the center of the grand ballroom, Galen Moretti was holding court. At forty-six years old, Galen was powerful, deeply masculine, and intimidating in a way that only a veteran Mafia boss could be. He wore a masterfully tailored dark three-piece suit, a crisp white dress shirt, his heavy family signet ring, an expensive luxury wristwatch, and perfectly polished leather shoes. His fair, rosy skin and sharp, angular features commanded absolute respect from every man and woman in the room.
"The southern ports will remain under our control," Galen stated firmly to a group of his highest-ranking capos, his deep American accent cutting through the ambient noise. "I don't care what the Rossi syndicate claims. If they push a single shipment through our waters, we sink their boats."
"Understood, Boss," one of the capos replied, nodding deeply. "We will double the guard on the docks tonight. No one moves without your explicit authorization."
"Make sure of it," Galen warned, his voice low and dangerous. "This engagement dinner does not mean our borders are unguarded. We must project absolute strength."
Before the capo could respond, the sharp, unmistakable sound of a physical strike cut through the music and the chatter. It was a sound Galen’s highly trained ears recognized instantly. It was followed by a tiny, heartbroken gasp that made the blood in his veins turn to absolute ice.
Galen’s head snapped toward the engagement table. The bright, cinematic lighting illuminated the scene with painful, terrifying clarity. He saw Ainsley standing with a look of vicious triumph on her face, and his three-year-old daughter crumpled on the marble floor beside her chair, clutching her cheek.
Galen did not excuse himself. He did not speak a single word to his capos.
He immediately crossed the room. His polished leather shoes struck the marble floor with heavy, predatory intent. The surrounding Mafia-family guests, sensing the sudden, apocalyptic shift in the Boss's demeanor, instantly stepped back. A wave of heavy, suffocating silence cascaded over the ballroom as the music abruptly faded.
Galen reached the table in seconds. He bypassed Ainsley entirely, dropping to one knee without a second thought for the expensive fabric of his tailored suit. His massive, powerful hands reached down and gently lifted Eira safely to her feet. He pulled her securely against his broad chest, pulling her safely beside him.
"Eira, look at me," Galen murmured, his deeply masculine voice softening into a tone of protective, aching tenderness. He gently pulled her small hand away from her face.
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A bright red mark was already blooming across her fair, rosy cheek. Galen’s jaw locked so tightly that the muscles feathered visibly beneath his skin. The cold, intimidating aura surrounding him flared into a blazing, terrifying inferno.
Nearby guests fell completely silent, holding their breath in the pristine, brightly lit room. The elite men and women of the syndicate watched in paralyzed horror as the veteran Mafia boss stood up, holding his weeping daughter against his side. No dialogue was spoken between the adults. The absolute stillness of the room was far more dangerous than any shouted threat. Galen slowly turned his head to look at his fiancée.
