Chapter 6 - The Dinner at Lombardi’s
On the seventh night, Dominic entered the cottage wearing a pristine, custom black tuxedo.
"Get dressed," he said, setting a large black designer box on the sofa. "We are going out."
I opened the box. Inside was a navy silk evening gown that looked like it belonged on a runway in Paris, along with a pair of silver heels and a velvet box containing a diamond pendant.
"Where are we going?" I asked, staring at the dress.
"Lombardi’s," Dominic said. "It is the neutral ground restaurant where the five family heads meet every quarter. Tonight, the Commission is hosting a dinner to discuss the territory disputes."
"Why do you need me there?"
"Because Marcus Moretti has been spreading rumors that I am weak—that I was broken by the bombing," Dominic said, stepping closer to me, his dark eyes fixed on mine. "Tonight, I walk into that room with the woman who dragged me out of the fire. I show them that not only am I alive, but that my debts are paid and my inner circle is unbroken."
"I am not part of your inner circle, Dominic," I whispered, my heart fluttering against my ribs as he stepped within arm's reach.
He reached out, his long fingers gently touching the back of my hand. "You saved my life, Emma. You are the only person in this city who wants nothing from me. That makes you closer to me than any man sitting at that table."
An hour later, we stepped out of the armored limousine in front of Lombardi’s—a lavish three-story restaurant in the heart of the downtown district.
Flashbulbs exploded in the night air.
Reporters, guards, and onlookers crowded against the velvet ropes as Dominic offered me his arm. I placed my hand on his black wool sleeve, keeping my chin high, my heart hammering like a trapped bird inside my chest.
We entered the private dining room on the top floor.
A massive mahogany table sat twenty men in expensive suits. At the far end sat an older man with white hair, silver rings on every finger, and eyes as cold as a serpent's.
Marcus Moretti.
When Dominic walked into the room with me on his arm, every fork stopped. The silence in the room became so heavy you could hear the rain tapping against the high stained-glass windows.
Marcus set his wine glass down, his lip curling into a venomous smile. "Dominic. I see you brought the diner girl."
May you like
Dominic didn't flinch. He pulled out my chair at the head of the table, right to his right, before taking his own seat.
"I brought the woman who showed more courage in thirty seconds than you have in sixty years, Marcus," Dominic said, his voice cutting through the silent room like a razor blade. "And I brought her here to watch you sign over the South Dock lease."
