CHAPTER 3

Dean

Grace 24, Dean 32

My eyes found her the moment she entered the club. 

“Mirage” was one of the exclusive nightclubs in downtown Manhattan and was fortunately owned by me.  

We opened this place six months ago. Our intention was clear: keep Mirage clean, in the front for the vultures to watch.

Enzo found this shadiest warehouse a year ago and transformed it into a lavish, high-class nightclub. This was where we did most of our meetings when I was in the city. 

The money we earned through the weapons and smuggling went to the club expansion. There was no loophole in our business, no crack, and certainly no mistake.

Tonight, Enzo and I were here for a quiet night. Enzo flew down the state this morning from Italy, where my family still lived.

Although for half of the year I was here, Italy still remained in my heart. My widowed mother, two younger sisters, and extended family happily resided in our hundred-year-old family mansion.

In recent years, New York had become equally important to me, and after I saw Grace, I was in love with this city.

I was on the balcony of our VIP lounge, observing any unusual activities on the ground floor. The whiskey in my hand was long forgotten. I was more immersed in finding the fucking rat.

I became a fan of his devotion to ruining me. Whoever this person was, he somehow excelled in keeping his entire existence under the rug.

It was almost impossible to attack my plans, yet he concurred with them with little trouble.

By the way, he did it again. Another victory for him while I lost another million.

Fucking asshole.

Grace entered the club with concern in her eyes. Without looking, she took the stairs, which she crossed by running as fast as she could.

This wasn't her first time here. Her body language told me she did this same thing a million times before. 

Interesting.

What was Miss Little Sunshine doing here?

The good girl, the golden girl of New York high society, was in a lion's den that didn't fit the deception Enzo gave me three nights ago.

“Grace Hale, daughter of Mayor Hale’s youngest daughter. Twenty-four years old, a cello artist. She is quite popular in the world of cello. A prodigy. There is nothing to find out. She is the definition of a good girl.” Enzo said.

Soon after, one of our bouncers followed her path. Well, now that was interesting. 

Four days ago Miss Hale was laughing in the middle of one of the busiest streets, and now another one was following her.

It appeared my future wife had a lot of admirers on her side.

Fine by me.

A little competition was always welcome on my part.

“Is there anything else you've found out about Grace?” I asked Enzo, taking a sip of my lukewarm whiskey.

“Nothing much. Just an accident that happened when she was twelve. Other than that, her records are clean.” Enzo stood beside me. “Too clean.”

“The Mayor’s doing. Portraying the perfect image in public earns him some brownie points.” I smirked. “Hale won the election four consecutive years. Of course, he wants to maintain his position.”

“Why are you so eager for Grace Hale?”

“Why not? She is beautiful. I am mesmerized by her divine aura.”

“Don't bullshit with me, Dean. I have known you since childhood, and beauty is the last thing you consider when you are making a decision.”

“Maybe this time it did. Maybe I saw her and decided to keep her.” I swirled the liquor in my glass. “I need to get married. I am only doing what is expected of me.”

“No offense, boss, but I don't buy what you are selling.” He drank his drink.

Of course, he wouldn't. Enzo was aware of my nature, manner, and everything else.

I hardly ever rush in my life. 

So why did Dean Moretti, out of the blue, decide to marry a random woman he saw on the street?

Curious?

The problem was, tonight I wasn't in the mood for revealing secrets. Adventures tugged me more on this misty, chilly night. 

“Any findings on the mayor?” I put my glass on the coffee table.

“Everyone knows he is a corrupt person, but there is no evidence to support the claim. His sheets are clean. Like there was never a stain before.” He shook his head. “Suspicious, right?”

"I knew this bastard was too good to be true.” I said.

“Every politician is. A good image is all they want. Helps them win over the citizens.”

“Hale will never give his daughter to me, Enzo. Not willingly.”

“Why are you so obsessed with this woman?” Enzo groaned. “Of course, a mayor will never let his daughter marry a criminal boss.”

“I should change his mind then.” The corner of my lips tugged, knowing it would only annoy him more.

“Dean, you are being irrational this time. Think twice. No thrice.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“God, save me.” He finished his remaining liquid in one sip.

Pursuing the route Grace took a few seconds ago, I stood in the middle of the hallway of our VIP lounge. The bouncer was standing outside a room with his hands over his chest. He was waiting.

For what?

A few seconds later, the door opened, and he entered only to come out just three seconds later with an unconscious woman in his arms. Soon, Grace came out; instead of following them, she stood in the middle and looked as if she was in the middle of having a panic attack.

Another interesting fact about Miss Hale. Of course, the brightest were the most depressed ones. Grace Hale was the living example of that.

What astonished me most about her was her clothing.

Tonight she was yellow. Every shade of them this world had to offer.

The saffron yellow flowy knee-length dress with white polka dots printed. A mustard crop cardigan covering the swell of her breast. A butter-yellow scrunchie wrapped her entire hair in a low bun. And of course, those pale yellow flats. 

How could I miss them?

I was convinced this woman’s wardrobe was as interesting as her personality. Although I only met her twice, and we didn't share a single word, I was intrigued by her.

Or was it an obsession?

Hard to tell. Whatever it was, I was all in on this pilgrimage.

She commenced walking, and so did I. I could have passed her; the hallway was wide enough to walk away without touching her body, but I was tempted. Too tempted to see what she would do. 

I gave in and stood abruptly in the middle of the hallway. Three seconds later her head bumped into my chest. It was quick, quicker than lightning speed.

She lifted her head, stared into my eyes, nodded her head, and walked away.

Excuse me, what the hell was that?

She walked away. She simply walked away from me like I was a fire burning her precious hand.

Fury burned high in my heart. She didn't have any problem laughing with that bastard in the street but jumped away from me. 

Fanfuckingtastic.

What connection did she have with him?

Why was she comfortable with him?

How intimate were those two?

And why did Enzo fail to spot him in her life?

Despite all the dots being right in front of my eyes, I failed flat to connect the dots about her.

The enigma around her life was well hidden. My man couldn't find anything on her, while there were a ton of them sprinkled all over the place.

I pulled out my phone from my pocket and dialed Enzo’s number.

“Yes.” He answered on the second ring.

“Run another background check on Grace Hale. This time go big. I want more information about her. Her past, present, and everything.”

“What are you looking for, Dean?”

“I don’t know. But check on every person in her life. Every friend, family member, everything. Give me a proper report on who she met in the past six months, where she went, and what she did.”

“You do realize this sounds pathetic, right, Dean?”

“Doesn't matter. Do it. You have twenty-four hours.”

“Man, I really don't understand your intention here. This entire thing feels fishy.”

"Nothing is fishy. I am just a little curious.”

I cut the call and made my way toward the VIP lounge while thinking about her.

She was a private person; there was hardly any personal information available. No social media or anything that could provide a glimpse into her life.

Thankfully I had easy access to her professional commitment.

Her next grand show was this Sunday, three days from now. 

Tickets were nowhere to be found. Enzo was right; in the world of cello, Grace was an A-list celebrity. Her show sold all tickets within the first hour of its release.

Not a problem for me. I managed to get a ticket to attend the show. I would be in the shadow but there to cheer for my future wife.

“Hello.” I picked up the call as soon as I reached the lounge.

“Cousin, how are you doing?” Rocco, the fucking asshole, was on the other side of this call.

“It looks like God isn't in the mood for listening to your prayer.” I chuckled. “Since I am doing exceptionally well.”

“You hurt me, baby brother. I only pray for your well-being. We are blood, not rivals."

“Yet you are doing everything in your power to ruin me. I wonder why.” I poured myself another glass of whiskey.

“I am doing what is good for our family and organization. Don't take it personally, brother.”

“I am not.” I sat on the couch. “If I took your threat seriously, you would be dead by now. You are alive, aren't you?”

“Was this a joke?” His playful tone shifted with a dark underlayer that coated it.

“I don't have time on hand to joke with you, Rocco.”

“Bastard.”

“A trait all Moretti men inherited by birth.”

“You still have time, Dean. Marry that Russian heir, and I will spare you a war.”

“I choose war over a marriage that would bind me to you and those fucking Russians. Bring it on, cousin. I am ready to kill you.”

“We don't have to do the extreme, cousin. The solution is easy and beneficial for everyone.”

“Still not interested. Anything else you want to say? If not, I am done with this conversation.”

“My eyes are on you, brother.”

“Good. But keep an eye on your marriage too. I heard your wife is sleeping with her stepbrother.” With that, I cut the call.