Chapter 2 - The Rhythm of SteelThe silence inside my studio was absolute, broken only by the hum of the air conditioner and the soft tap of Rose’s heels as she casually walked into my back office, closing the door behind her with a soft CLICK.
Gabriel didn't reach for a gun. He stood in the center of my dance floor wearing his ten-thousand-dollar charcoal suit, his broad shoulders relaxed, his posture fluid and balanced—the exact stance I had taught him fifteen minutes earlier during our basic box step.
"You're standing on polished maple, Dominic," Gabriel said flatly, his storm-gray eyes locking onto his uncle without a single flicker of fear. "Your weight is entirely on your heels. You have zero balance."
Dominic frowned, his eyes narrowing in confusion. "What are you talking about, you arrogant bastard?!"
"Slow, slow, quick, quick," Gabriel murmured softly under his breath.
Before Dominic could react, Gabriel moved with surgical, terrifying speed.
He didn't charge like a brute. He executed a flawless, sweeping spin across the maple floor—a movement born from forty-five minutes of mastering footwork—using his momentum to sweep Dominic’s lead knee out from under him.
CRACK!
Dominic let out a sharp, pathetic shriek as his knee buckled, his silenced pistol flying from his hand, skittering across the floor straight toward my feet.
Gabriel caught Dominic by his throat before he hit the ground, driving his heavy frame down flat against the maple floor with iron force, while Leo and two Moretti operators rushed through the rear entrance, disarming the remaining three gunmen in four seconds flat.
The fight was over before it even began.
I stood near the sound system, my breath caught in my throat, my hands squeezed into tight fists against my sweater.
Gabriel stood up slowly, adjusting his dark silk tie, smoothing down the front of his charcoal jacket. He stepped over his groveling, weeping uncle, walking across the floor until he stood two inches from me.
He looked down at the gun lying near my shoes, then raised his dark eyes to meet mine.
"Are you hurt, Claire?" Gabriel asked, his voice dropping an octave into a low, velvet register that made my pulse take a wild, unpredictable leap.
"I'm... I'm fine," I rasped out, taking a slow, deep breath, meeting his storm-gray eyes without flinching. "Your balance was actually quite good on that turn."
Gabriel went quiet. A genuine, breathtaking laugh broke from his chest—a deep, rich sound that echoed off the high ceilings, making Leo stare at his boss in utter, speech-bound shock.
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"You're insane, Claire Donovan," Gabriel whispered, reaching out his hand, his long fingers gently wrapping around mine, pulling me half an inch closer.
"I'm a dance teacher, Mr. Moretti," I replied softly, my copper-red hair framing my face as I offered him a small, radiant smile. "And your hour isn't up yet."
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