Chapter 5 - The Trap at the Gala
Two weeks later, the tension finally boiled over. Dominic had been invited to the annual Chicago Philanthropic Gala at the Drake Hotel—a high-society gathering where the city's elite, corrupt politicians, and high-ranking mob bosses rubbed shoulders under the guise of charity. Normally, Dominic attended alone or with political props. Tonight, he insisted I accompany him.
"A mafia boss doesn't bring a shelter worker to a billionaire gala unless he's making a statement," I protested, standing in front of the full-length mirror in my dressing room.
The gown Dominic had provided was breathtaking—a midnight-blue silk dress that hugged my curves, shimmering under the lights like a starry night sky, paired with elegant diamond-encrusted drop earrings that cost more than my college tuition.
"I am making a statement," Dominic said as he stepped into the room, looking devastatingly handsome in a classic black tuxedo. He stopped dead in his tracks, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at me in the mirror. "Good lord, Addison... you are stunning."
"You clean up okay too, Mr. Castellano," I teased softly, though my cheeks burned bright red.
When we arrived at the grand ballroom of the Drake Hotel, every head turned. Flashbulbs popped from local journalists, and whispers rippled through the sea of designer gowns and expensive suits. Who was the mystery woman on the arm of Chicago’s most dangerous and elusive bachelor?
We moved gracefully through the crowd, accepting polite nods and nervous smiles from city officials. But the moment we reached the center of the ballroom, the atmosphere shifted drastically. A tall, impeccably dressed man with slicked-back silver hair and cruel, cold blue eyes stepped directly into our path.
Salvatore Rossi.
"Dominic," Rossi smiled, though his eyes looked like dead glass. "I see you brought a stray dog to a human party. Did you find her wandering the alleys, or did she crawl out of a shelter?"
Dominic’s hand tightened instinctively around my waist, his body locking into a protective barrier. "Watch your mouth, Salvatore. You're out of your depth."
"Am I?" Rossi chuckled, stepping closer, his gaze sliding over me with an insulting, predatory smirk. "I heard about your little pet pit bull, sweetheart. He was trained to tear throats out on command. It’s a shame to waste such a vicious animal on a nobody waitress. Tell me, does he bite you in bed too?"
Before Dominic could erupt, before a single shot could be fired, I stepped smoothly out from behind Dominic's shoulder. I didn't flinch. I didn't show a single shred of fear. I channeled every ounce of professional authority I had ever used on aggressive, traumatized rescue dogs facing down their abusers.
"Mr. Rossi," I said, my voice carrying clearly across the silent, stunned ballroom. "An animal only bites when it's cornered by someone smaller and weaker than its true nature. It’s fascinating how men like you project your own insecurity onto dogs. You spend your whole life barking because you're terrified of what happens when someone finally calls your bluff."
The entire ballroom went completely dead silent. You could hear a pin drop on the marble floor.
May you like
Rossi’s face drained of color, his jaw trembling with murderous rage. "You arrogant little bitch—"
"Enough, Salvatore," Dominic’s voice boomed like thunder, cold and lethal. "Another word, and I'll feed you to Zeus myself."
