Chapter 6 - THE SICILIAN DEFENSE
We stayed in the safe room until dawn, when Dante confirmed the threat was neutralized. The Bellini hit squad was dead, but the attack had crossed a line that the underworld would not ignore. It was no longer just a territorial dispute; it was a blood feud.
The penthouse was a wreck, so Vincent moved us to his heavily fortified compound in the Hamptons. It was a sprawling, cliffside estate surrounded by armed guards and high walls.
For the next two weeks, I didn't just hide. I wanted to help.
Before my husband died and left me with crippling debt, I had been a forensic accountant. When I mentioned this to Vincent over dinner one night, his eyes lit up with a dangerous gleam.
He brought me into his war room—a high-tech office overlooking the ocean. He laid out the Bellini family’s financial records, decades of encrypted ledgers and shell companies that his hackers had stolen.
“Find their heart, Elena,” he told me, standing close behind my chair, his breath warm on my neck. “Find the artery that bleeds them dry.”
I worked day and night. The proximity to Vincent was intoxicating. Every time he leaned over my desk to point at a screen, the friction between us grew. We were two people from entirely different worlds, united by a common enemy.
On the fifth night of the audit, I found it.
“Here,” I said, pointing to a recurring offshore transfer. “It’s a ghost company in the Caymans. Sophia’s father wasn't just laundering money; he was stealing from the Commission—the supreme mafia council. If you hand these ledgers over to the Commission, you won't have to fire a single bullet. They’ll execute the Bellinis themselves.”
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Vincent stared at the screen, then looked down at me. A slow, predatory smile spread across his face. “You are brilliant,” he whispered.
He leaned down, and before I could overthink it, his lips crashed into mine. It wasn't a gentle kiss. It was possessive, fierce, and tasting of whiskey and relief. I grabbed the lapels of his shirt, pulling him closer, letting the fear and tension of the past month melt into the heat of his mouth.
