Chapter 2 - “I’m buying the remainder of your shift.”
Dante looked toward Greg.
“Her time no longer belongs to this establishment tonight.”
Then back to Elena.
“She is working for me.”
Greg’s mouth fell open.
“Is she clocked out?”
“Yes.”
Greg nodded rapidly.
“Absolutely.”
He forced a nervous laugh.
“She’s yours.”
Disgust flashed across Dante’s face.
“She is not cattle.”
Greg stopped breathing.
“I am paying for her company because she refused to provide it for free.”
Dante stepped closer to Elena.
He touched her chin gently and lifted her face.
The tenderness of the contact was almost more unsettling than aggression would have been.
“Now…”
His voice lowered.
“…the work excuse is gone.”
His eyes remained on hers.
“Your manager has been dealt with.”
A pause.
“Dance with me.”
Elena looked at the envelope.
$10,000.
Months of Toby’s medication.
Rent arrears.
Breathing room.
Then she looked at Dante.
Something in his expression unsettled her more than desire would have.
Recognition.
As though he already knew her.
“Okay.”
Dante nodded once.
Then he took her hand.
Instead of leading her toward the dance floor, he started toward the exit.
“Wait.”
Elena stumbled slightly in her worn sneakers.
“You said dance.”
“I don’t dance in public clubs.”
He continued walking.
“Especially places that smell like cheap cologne and desperation.”
“Where are we going?”
“Somewhere better.”
They exited through the rear of the club.
Cold New York air replaced heat and music.
2 black SUVs and a silver Rolls-Royce Phantom waited in the alley.
A uniformed driver opened the rear door.
Elena stopped.
“I’m not getting into that.”
Dante turned.
“I don’t know you.”
For the first time, he looked almost approving.
“Smart.”
He stepped closer.
“Most women would already be inside.”
“I’m not most women.”
Elena lifted her chin.
“And I’m not a prostitute.”
Dante’s face hardened.
In 2 strides, he closed the distance.
He put 1 hand on the roof of the Rolls-Royce, blocking her path without touching her.
“I know that.”
Elena went still.
“I know exactly who you are.”
Her stomach tightened.
“I know you live in a walk-up in Queens.”
He continued.
“I know your brother Toby is in room 402 at NYU Langone.”
Elena’s face lost color.
“Congenital heart defect.”
Dante’s voice remained calm.
“I know you are 3 months behind on rent.”
“How?”
Her voice cracked.
“How do you know that?”
“I know what I need to know.”
Dante glanced back toward the club.
“And I know that without the $10,000 on that table, your landlord removes you on Tuesday.”
Tears filled Elena’s eyes.
The information felt invasive because it was true.
“What do you want?”
“Tonight?”
Dante’s expression softened almost invisibly.
“A dance.”
“A conversation.”
Then:
“My word that you will be returned safely by sunrise.”
He held out his hand again.
“The money remains yours regardless.”
Elena looked at it.
Then at the alley.
At the life waiting for her outside this car.
She was drowning.
The most dangerous man in New York was offering something that looked like a rope.
Elena took his hand.
“Good girl.”
Dante guided her into the Rolls-Royce.
The door shut.
High above the alley, a man in a gray hoodie watched from a fire escape.
A telephoto lens was pointed toward the car.
He took several photographs.
Then called someone.
“She’s with him.”
His voice was low.
“The bait worked.”
A pause.
“Vanel has the girl.”
The Rolls-Royce moved through Manhattan.
Inside, silence pressed harder than the nightclub noise had.
Elena sat against the door, clutching the hem of her uniform.
Her sneakers had holes.
Her dress was inexpensive.
The man beside her wore a suit worth more than Toby’s procedure.
Dante typed on a sleek black phone.
He did not look at her.
“You’re hyperventilating.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
His eyes stayed on the screen.
“In through your nose.”
Elena frowned.
“Count to 4.”
He continued typing.
“Then exhale.”
His mouth shifted faintly.
“I would rather you not faint on the upholstery.”
Elena took a shaky breath.
“Where are we going?”
Dante locked the phone.
“You said somewhere better.”
She looked through the window.
“We’re going toward the Upper East Side.”
Her hands tightened together.
“I don’t belong there.”
Dante turned slowly.
“You belong wherever I decide you belong.”
Elena stiffened.
“For tonight.”
The Rolls-Royce stopped outside Obsidian Tower, a black-glass residential skyscraper rising above the city.
Uniformed doormen approached immediately.
“Mr. Vanel.”
1 opened the door.
“Welcome home.”
Dante stepped onto the pavement.
Then waited.
He did not pull Elena out.
She eventually stepped out on her own.
Wind lifted her hair.
“Come.”
The private elevator moved upward.
Pressure changed in Elena’s ears.
When the doors opened, there was no hallway.
They opened directly into a penthouse.
The living area was enormous.
Floor-to-ceiling windows looked across Manhattan.
From this height, the city appeared almost peaceful.
The apartment was modern, stark, and coldly elegant.
White leather.
Black marble.
Violent-looking abstract art.
“Drink?”
Dante crossed to a crystal decanter.
“Water.”
Elena remained near the elevator.
“Please.”
He poured sparkling water for her and whiskey for himself.
When he handed her the glass, their fingers touched.
Elena jerked back.
Water spilled onto the marble.
“I’m sorry.”
She immediately looked around.
“I’ll clean it.”
Her body moved automatically, still responding as a waitress.
Dante caught her wrist.
“Leave it.”
She stopped.
“You’re not a waitress here.”
His grip relaxed.
“You’re my guest.”
“Why?”
Elena stared at him.
“Why me?”
She gestured vaguely toward the city below.
“There were models downstairs.”
“Beautiful women.”
Her voice shook.
“Why did you choose the girl cleaning tables?”
Dante drank slowly.
“Because those women look at me and see money.”
He approached.
“Power they hope to borrow.”
Elena found herself backing toward the windows.
“When you looked at me…”
His eyes held hers.
“…you saw a monster.”
Dante set his whiskey aside.
“I value honesty.”
He extended a hand.
“I paid for your time.”
Then:
“I asked for a dance.”
There was no music.
Only the muted city below.
Dante placed 1 hand around Elena’s waist and took her right hand with his left.
She became rigid.
“Relax.”
His mouth was near her ear.
“Follow me.”
He started moving.
A slow waltz.
Elena stumbled.
Her sneakers squeaked on polished marble.
Dante adjusted immediately, changing his stride until her mistakes disappeared inside his movements.
Gradually, Elena stopped resisting.
They moved in front of the vast windows with New York beneath them.
“My father taught me to waltz.”
The memory came before Elena decided to reveal it.
Dante’s hand tightened slightly.
“He died when I was 12.”
He looked down.
“In our kitchen?”
“No.”
Elena shook her head.
“He worked at the docks.”
She swallowed.
“A crate fell from a crane.”
Dante’s grip became almost imperceptibly firmer.
“A good man?”
“The best.”
Elena stared beyond his shoulder.
“After he died, there was my mother, Toby, and me.”
Her voice softened.
“Then Mom got sick.”
She looked at Dante.
“Now it’s just Toby and me.”
A pause.
“That money you gave me…”
Emotion entered her face.
May you like
“It may save his life.”
She gave a fragile smile.
Related Stories
