Chapter 1 - The Weight of a Name“Walk straight, keep your chin elevated, and do not look at your ring,” Dominic murmured, his voice smooth as silk and cold as winter iron against my ear. “He expects you to crumble. Show him you are standing beside the man who owns his life.”
My pulse thundered in my throat, each beat echoing the phantom kiss I had begged for moments ago. Dominic’s hand remained steady against the small of my back, a solid anchor amidst the sea of shimmering gowns, glittering diamond necklaces, and whispering elite. As we closed the distance toward the marble arch, the ambient chatter of the Grand Sterling Hotel ballroom seemed to die away, replaced by the heavy, suffocating silence of absolute terror.
Nathan’s glass trembled. I could see it—a microscopic shake of his fingers against the stem of his champagne flute. Beside him, my half-sister Emily was completely oblivious. She was still preening, twirling a lock of her golden hair, her red lipstick slightly smudged from their secret encounter in the service hallway. She thought she had won. She thought she had stolen my golden ticket.
“Dominic,” Nathan choked out, the word barely more than a raspy breath as we stopped a mere three feet away. The color hadn't returned to his cheeks; if anything, he looked like a corpse standing upright in an Italian wool suit. “Mr. Bellardi. I... I didn’t realize you were attending tonight’s gala.”
“I wasn’t,” Dominic said mildly, his grip on my waist tightening just enough to pull me flush against his side. The contrast was deliberate: Nathan looked broken, while Dominic looked like a predator who had just claimed his prize. “But when a charming young woman asks for my assistance in dealing with a pest, I find it difficult to refuse.”
Emily’s snort broke the tension, high and brittle. “A pest? Nathan, who is this old man? Nora, what are you doing? Are you so desperate after—I mean, why are you clinging to him like that?”
“Silence, Emily!” Nathan snapped, his voice cracking with a sharp, desperate panic that made Emily flinch. He had never raised his voice to her, certainly not in public. “Close your mouth right now.”
Dominic didn't even grant Emily a glance. His dark, sharp eyes remained fixed on Nathan, analyzing the younger man like a surgeon preparing to make an incision. “You look nervous, Wexler. Is it because the charity foundation you run with your father just defaulted on its third off-shore loan? Or is it because you forgot that the land under this very hotel belongs to Bellardi Enterprises?”
My head snapped up to look at Dominic. The land?
Nathan swallowed hard, his eyes darting frantically around the room, hoping someone—anyone—would step in. But the surrounding elite had drawn back, creating a fifteen-foot circle of empty space around us. Nobody was coming to save him.
“I... we are handling the foundation’s finances, sir,” Nathan stammered, sweat glistening on his forehead. “The accounts will be settled by the end of the quarter. My father—”
“Your father is currently sitting in a private room upstairs, waiting for my associates to discuss his outstanding gambling debts,” Dominic interrupted, his tone chillingly polite. “Debts he secured using your upcoming marriage to Miss Nora Blake as collateral.”
The air rushed out of my lungs. I looked from Dominic to Nathan, my mind racing to process the absolute absurdity—and horror—of what I was hearing. “My marriage? Nathan, what is he talking about?”
Nathan couldn't look me in the eye. He stared at the polished floorboards, his jaw working silently.
“He didn’t tell you, Nora?” Dominic whispered, his breath warm against my temple as he leaned down. “The Wexler family is entirely bankrupt. They needed the Blake name, your mother’s trust fund, and your social standing to keep their creditors from breaking their legs. Nathan here was supposed to marry you next month to seal the buyout of your family’s shipping ports.”
Emily looked wildly between Nathan and Dominic. “Wait... what? Bankrupt? Nathan, you said you were buying me the penthouse in SoHo!”
“Shut up, Emily!” Nathan hissed through clenched teeth.
“Ah,” Dominic said softly, a dark, dangerous spark igniting in his eyes. “So the little sister was the prize for his personal pleasure, while Nora was the workhorse meant to pay off his debts. How delightfully poetic. And how profoundly foolish.”
Before Nathan could respond, Dominic took my right hand in his. His fingers were large, warm, and calloused. Without a word of warning, he slid the three-carat diamond ring off my engagement finger. Nathan gasped, reaching out an instinctively protestive hand, but Dominic didn't even flinch. He simply dropped the million-dollar ring into a glass of half-empty champagne sitting on a nearby tray with a soft clink.
“This engagement is concluded,” Dominic declared, his voice echoing clearly across the hushed room.
“You can’t do that!” Nathan blustered, a pathetic flare of courage rising in his chest. “Who do you think you are? You’re a retired thug, Bellardi! You don’t control my life or my relationship! Nora is my fiancée!”
Dominic stepped forward. It was a single step, but Nathan instantly recoiled, nearly knocking Emily over.
“I owned this city before you were born, boy,” Dominic said softly, his voice dropping into a register that made the hairs on my arms stand up. “And if you speak to her, or look at her, or step within one hundred yards of her ever again, I will remind you why people don't use my name out loud.”
Dominic then turned to me. The absolute terror that had gripped my spine vanished the moment his eyes met mine. There was no malice in his gaze when he looked at me—only an intense, unyielding protection that I had never experienced in my entire life.
“You asked me for a kiss earlier, Nora,” Dominic said, his thumb gently tracing the line of my jawline. “I don't make promises in public that I don't intend to honor. But a woman like you deserves more than an act of revenge.”
He leaned down. My heart slammed against my ribs as his lips brushed softly against mine. It wasn't a rushed, desperate desperate press of mouths; it was slow, possessive, and electric. A collective gasp rippled through the ballroom. My hands instinctively found their way to the lapels of his tuxedo, anchoring myself to him as the world spun around us.
May you like
When he finally pulled back, my lips were tingling, and Nathan looked as if he had been physically struck.
“Now,” Dominic said, offering me his arm once more. “Let us leave these children to their filth. We have much larger problems to discuss, Miss Blake.”
