Chapter 2 - The Altar on the BluffsThe silence that followed in the master study was heavier than lead.
Through the rain-streaked panoramic glass, the dark waters of Long Island Sound churned against the jagged limestone bluffs below.
Dante didn’t pull his sleeve away from my grip. His gaze slowly tracked down to my trembling fingers holding his tailored cuff, then lifted back to my face with terrifying, calculating stillness.
“An ambush during the reception,” Dante repeated. His voice had the density of cold iron. “On the stone terrace by the water.”
“Yes, sir,” I breathed, the words scraping against my dry throat. “Keller told her that a private boat would be idling beneath the cliffs at three in the afternoon. When her father’s men staged a false drive-by at the outer perimeter gate to draw your security into the courtyard, two divers were supposed to scale the cliff path, take the necklace from your neck, and make it look like a botched hit from the Montreal syndicate.”
Dante reached down with his other hand, his warm, calloused fingers closing gently around my right wrist, freeing his cuff without breaking contact.
“What is your sister’s name, Nora?”
The question threw me. “Mia, sir. Mia Williams. She’s twenty-one.”
“Where is she tonight?”
“In our apartment in Astoria,” I whispered, my heart fluttering against my ribs. “She has chronic aplastic anemia. She needs a targeted blood transfusion every Monday morning. The prescription deductible was seventy dollars, and I didn't have it until this shift.”
Dante picked up the desk phone, pressing a three-digit extension.
“Daniel.”
“Yes, boss?”
“Dispatch two armored transports to 412 30th Avenue in Astoria. Pick up Mia Williams. Bring her directly to the private medical pavilion at North Shore University Hospital. Have the chief of hematology standing by. All accounts, care, and specialty transport are billed to the Caruso Family Trust in perpetuity. If anyone not carrying my personal seal is within two blocks of that building, neutralize them.”
Tears burned behind my eyelids, spilling over my lashes before I could stop them.
“Mr. Caruso... please... she thinks I work in hospitality. She doesn't know anything about syndicates.”
“She will never have to know, Nora,” Dante said softly, stepping closer until his broad frame shadowed me entirely. “In this house, nobody who bleeds to protect my mother’s name ever watches her family suffer. Your sister is safe.”
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He looked down at my splinted left arm resting on the velvet pillow.
“Now,” he whispered, his gray eyes turning to black ice. “Let us go inspect my fiancée’s luggage.”
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