Chapter 4 - The Showdown at Bella VistaAt 4:00 PM, the scorching heat over the terrace of Bella Vista was thick with the scent of roasted meat, dry wine, and sea salt.
The restaurant had been cleared of tourists under a "private event reservation." The blue umbrella tables sat empty, save for Table 12 in the quietest corner.
Sitting at Table 12, sipping a glass of red Agiorgitiko wine, wearing an immaculate black suit, was Dante.
I sat across from him in a simple white silk dress, holding a glass of iced water. Standing in the shadows behind the marble pillars were six of Dante’s private security operators, their sidearms concealed beneath their dark wool coats.
The heavy wooden double doors of the restaurant terrace swung open with a harsh crash.
Tyler Vance stepped through the doorway.
He was thirty-five, tall, disheveled, wearing a greasy leather jacket despite the ninety-degree heat, his red-rimmed eyes scanning the empty terrace until they locked onto my face.
Behind him stood his three armed enforcers, their hands tucked aggressively inside their coat pockets.
"There you are, you little bitch!" Tyler spat, taking three fast, aggressive steps toward our table. "Do you have any idea how much money I spent tracking your worthless ass across Europe?!"
Dante didn't jump up. He didn't raise his hand. He simply set his wine glass flat on the white tablecloth, his dark eyes turning into cold, unyielding ice.
"Sit down, Tyler," Dante commanded quietly.
Tyler stopped three feet from the table, looking from my pale face to the tall, broad-shouldered Italian man sitting across from me. He let out a loud, mocking laugh.
"Who the hell are you, pal?" Tyler sneered, reaching into his coat waistband. "Her new sugar daddy? Get out of the way! This is family business!"
THWIP!
Before Tyler’s fingers could clear his jacket, Lorenzo stepped out from behind the marble pillar, driving the heavy steel barrel of a suppressed sidearm directly against the back of Tyler’s skull.
At the same second, Dante’s five other operators stepped into the sunlight, their weapons drawn, locking their sights onto Tyler’s three enforcers.
Tyler’s three men dropped their hands instantly, raising their arms high into the air, their faces completely drained of color.
"What the... what the hell is this?!" Tyler stammered, his body going rigid as he felt the cold steel pressed against his neck.
May you like
Dante leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, looking up at Tyler with a calm, terrifying disdain.
"My name is Dante Moretti," Dante spoke softly, every word carried clean over the sea breeze. "And the woman you just insulted is under my personal protection."
Related Stories
