Chapter 4

FLORA

"This is a business arrangement," he corrected. "One that benefits both parties. You get financial security and medical care for your mother. I get loyalty and discretion."

"And if I refuse?"

His expression hardened. "Then you become a liability rather than an asset."

We both knew what that meant.

I flipped to the last page, where a signature line awaited. "You're asking me to sign away my freedom."

"I'm offering you a way out of poverty and your mother a way out of pain." He reached into another drawer and pulled out a syringe and a small vial. "Speaking of which..."

My breath caught. "What is that?"

"Your mother's new medication. A recent development from Europe. It hasn't been approved by FDA yet, but it is highly effective for stage three kidney disease. It halts progression and can even reverse some damage."

I stared at the vial, while hope and suspicion took turns flaring up within me. "How do I know that's real?"

"You don't." He set the vial down beside the contract. "But it will be administered to your mother tomorrow morning by my personal physician if you sign."

"And if I don't?"

"Then it goes back in my drawer, and you go in the ground."

The bluntness of his threat made my stomach lurch.

"Why me?" I asked suddenly. "You could hire anyone. Professional assistants with experience. Why force someone who witnessed a murder to work for you?"

Something flickered in his eyes, calculation, maybe, or something deeper.

"Professional assistants come with professional connections," he said after a moment. "They have families, friends, social circles. You have only your mother. Your loyalty is easier to ensure."

"That's it? Because I'm isolated and desperate?"

"And intelligent," he added. "I saw your academic records. You were top of your class in high school. You learn quickly, and adapt even faster. Those are valuable traits."

It was a cold assessment, but not entirely inaccurate.

"There's more," I pressed, sensing something he wasn't saying. "What aren't you telling me?"

Dante rose from his chair and walked to a cabinet, where he poured himself a drink. Just like back then in his office, he didn't offer me one this time either.

"Your resemblance," he said finally, his back to me.

"To who?"

He turned, studying me over the rim of his glass. "To her. My mother."

I blinked in surprise as I asked, “Your mother?"

"The coloring is different. She was Italian, dark like me. But something in your face..." He shook his head slightly, as if clearing away unwanted thoughts. "It doesn't matter. What matters is your decision."

He set his glass down and pulled something else from his desk drawer. It was a silver letter opener shaped like a dagger. With deliberate slowness, he made a small cut on his palm, then held the blade out to me.

"In my family, important agreements are sealed in blood,” he said matter of factly.

I stared at the blade, then at his bleeding palm. "You can't be serious!” I exclaimed.

"I'm always serious about business, Flora." His voice was cold again, and now, all traces of humanity had been erased. "Your blood with mine, or your blood alone. Those are your options."

The room seemed to shrink around me as the walls closed in. I looked at the contract, the vial of medicine, the blade, and the man watching me with those dark, unreadable eyes.

"I need to see my mother tomorrow," I said finally. "In person. To explain."

"Accompanied by Victor, of course."

"Of course," I echoed bitterly.

"What else?" His tone suggested he was granting favors to a child.

"I want proof the medicine works. Provide me with medical documentation before it's given to her."

He nodded. "That's reasonable. The doctor will provide it."

"And I want to call her every day. Just to check in."

"Once a day, on a monitored line."

I took a deep breath. "And I want your word that you won't... that we won't..." I hesitated. I just couldn't bring myself to say it.

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. "That I won't demand sexual favors?" he finished for me.

My face burned, but I held his gaze.

"You're not my type, Flora." The words stung more than they should have. "I don't mix business with pleasure, and I certainly don't need to coerce women into my bed."

"Then put it in the contract," I insisted. "No 'other duties as assigned' that involve... that."

He considered me for a moment, then nodded. "Give me the pen."

I handed it to him, and he made a note in the margin of the last page, writing down what I asked. "Satisfied?"

As satisfied as I could be, given the circumstances.

"Then we have a deal?" he asked.

I closed my eyes briefly. Mom's face floated in my mind. She looked tired, and pale, but was always smiling despite her pain. This was for her. All of it.

"Yes," I whispered.

"Then sign."

I picked up the pen with trembling fingers and signed on the line.

Dante took the letter opener and held it out to me, handle first. "Your turn."

I took it, feeling the weight of the object in my hand. For a wild moment, I thought about plunging it into his throat, but what would happen to Mom then?

Instead, I made a small cut across my palm, wincing at the sting it caused.

Dante clasped my bleeding hand in his, and our blood mingled. His grip was warm and strong, sending an unwelcome shiver up my arm.

"Blood to blood," he said softly. "Now you belong to the Romano family."

"I belong to no one," I replied, trying to pull my hand away.

He held tight, his eyes boring into mine. "We'll see."

A knock at the door broke the moment. Victor entered without waiting for permission.

"Boss, we have a situation." His eyes flicked to me, then back to Dante. "The Petrovs are here."

Dante's expression darkened. "Now? It's nearly 2 AM."

"They say it's urgent. Something about the shipment from last week."

I watched the exchange with growing unease. It had to do with more criminal business, no doubt.

Dante released my hand and turned to Victor. "Take her to her room. Make sure she stays there."

"Yes, boss." Victor moved toward me.

"Wait!” I called out as Dante headed for the door. "What about tomorrow? My mother?"

He paused, looking back at me with those cold eyes. "Get some rest, Flora. Your new life begins at dawn."

Then he was gone, leaving me with Victor and a bloody palm.

"This way," Victor said gruffly, gesturing toward the door.

I followed him through the maze-like hallways, clutching my bleeding hand to my chest. We climbed a grand staircase to the second floor, then turned down another corridor.

"The blue room," Victor announced, opening a door.

I stepped inside, expecting a cell. Instead, I found a suite that could have belonged in a five-star hotel. It had a king-sized bed with blue silk bedding, a sitting area with plush chairs, and an en-suite bathroom which I could see through an open door. Almost everything in the room was blue.

"Gilded cage," I muttered.

Victor grunted. "Better than a pine box."

He was right, of course.

"Someone will bring you clothes in the morning," he said. "Don't try to leave. There are guards at every exit, and the security system would catch you anyway."

"I signed the contract," I said wearily. "I'm not going anywhere."

Victor studied me for a moment. "Smart girl. The last assistant didn't understand her position so quickly."

My blood froze. "Last assistant?"

"Sleep tight," he said, ignoring my question. He closed the door, and I heard the distinctive click of a lock engaging.

I stood in the middle of the beautiful room, as exhaustion washed over me in waves. The past few hours felt like a surreal nightmare. The murder, the escape attempt, the contract signed in blood.

I stumbled to the bathroom and ran cold water over my cut hand, watching my blood swirl down the drain. I had never felt so defeated, so trapped.

But as I looked up at my reflection in the mirror—pale face, haunted eyes—I recalled Dante's words about his mother. The way his hard expression had softened, just for a moment. The strange comment about my resemblance to her.

There was something there, something I could perhaps use. A crack in his armor.

In the other room, I heard a phone ring. It was the landline on the bedside table. I hurried to answer it, hoping against hope that it was my mother.

"Hello?"

"Flora." Dante's voice was smooth and cold. "One more thing I forgot to mention."

"What?" I asked warily.

"The Petrovs who just arrived? They're my rivals. They're dangerous men from the Russian bratva."

"Why are you telling me this?"

There was a pause on the line, and when he spoke again, his voice had a dangerous edge.

"Because if anything happens to me tonight, Victor has instructions regarding you and your mother. Remember that if you hear anything unusual."

Then the line went dead.

As I slowly placed the phone back in its cradle, a new fear was already building inside me. What had I gotten myself into? Who were these Petrovs, and what were they here for?

From somewhere downstairs came the sound of raised voices, followed by a crash. I moved to the door and pressed my ear against it.

Then I heard it: the unmistakable sound of a gunshot.

And another.

And another.