A Fight In The Morning

Dante didn't sleep.

He'd returned to the mansion at two in the morning, the silence of the house pressing down on him. His footsteps echoed off the marble floors as he climbed the stairs, each step heavier than the last.

He'd showered. Changed. Sat in the dark of his room, staring at nothing.

Now the sun was rising, pale gray light filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Dante stood at the window, his coffee untouched on the desk behind him. His eyes were fixed on the city below, but his mind was elsewhere.

Who told them?

The question gnawed at him. His parents knew about the apartment. About the scene. About everything.

He'd made sure no one saw him. Made sure the clean-up was fast, silent, invisible. His men were loyal. Trusted.

So how?

Then the door to his room bursted open.

Dante didn't turn around. He knew who it was before the voice even spoke.

"What were you thinking?"

Vincent Moretti stormed into the room, his face purple with rage. His father was sixty-two, silver-haired, still broad-shouldered despite his age. He moved like a man who'd never learned to be gentle.

Dante turned slowly. "Good morning to you too."

"Don't you dare." Vincent slammed his fist on the desk. "Don't you dare speak to me like that."

A woman appeared behind him,Mrs Moretti, Dante's mother. She was dressed in silk, her dark hair perfectly cuffed. Her face was calm, but her eyes were sharp.

"Vincent," she said quietly. "Calm down."

"Calm down?" Vincent spun around. "Our son nearly got himself killed last night. In a building we own. Do you understand what that means?"

"It means I handled it." Dante's voice was flat. "It means the threat is neutralized."

"Handled it?" Vincent stalked toward him. "You left bodies.."

"There were no bodies." Dante's jaw tightened. "Everything was cleaned up. No evidence. No witnesses."

"Someone saw you."

Dante's eyes flickered. "Who?"

"The building manager. A security guard. Someone."

Vincent waved his hand. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that it got back to us. The Moretti name, dragged through the mud because of your recklessness."

"My recklessness?" Dante stepped forward. "I was the one who was ambushed. I was the one who had to defend myself."

"And I'm the one who built this empire!" Vincent's voice boomed. "I'm the one who spent forty years making sure our name means something. And you..you throw it all away for a few minutes of violence?"

Dante's hands curled into fists at his sides. His father's words were like acid, burning through his carefully maintained control.

"What would you have me do?" Dante asked, his voice dangerously soft. "Let them kill me?"

"I would have you be more careful." Vincent's voice dropped. "I would have you think before you act."

His wife stepped between them. "Enough. Both of you."

Vincent glared at her, but he stepped back. She turned to Dante, her eyes searching his face.

"Who were the men?" she asked quietly. "Who sent them?"

"I don't know yet."

"Do you have any leads?"

Dante hesitated. His mind flashed to the girl in the apartment. The delivery girl. The one who'd fled before he could get a good look at her.

"Someone was there," he said slowly. "A woman. She ran before I could catch her."

"Did she see you?"

"Yes."

Vincent's face went red again. "And you let her go?"

"I didn't have a choice. I was distracted." Dante's jaw tightened. "But I'll find her."

"How?"

Dante was silent for a long moment. He could assign his men to search for her. Could have them track her down within hours.

But something stopped him.

She was scared, he thought. She ran. Like she didn't belong there.

Like she was an innocent.

"I'll handle it myself," Dante said finally.

Vincent's eyes narrowed. "Handle it? The girl could be a threat.."

"She's not." Dante didn't know why he was so certain. "She was delivering flowers. It was a coincidence."

"A coincidence?" Vincent laughed, cold and humorless. "You're telling me the woman who witnessed a violent scene and then escaped is just a coincidence?"

"Her delivery address was to another building. It was a mistake."

Vincent opened his mouth to argue, but his wife put a hand on his arm.

"Let him handle it," she said softly. "He knows what he's doing."

Vincent stared at her, then at Dante. For a long moment, no one spoke.

"Fine," Vincent finally said. "But if this comes back to haunt us, I'm holding you personally responsible."

He turned and walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Her mother lingered. She looked at her son, her eyes searching his face.

"Be careful, Dante," she said quietly. "Your father is right about one thing. You can't be reckless."

"I'm never reckless."

"Then why do I feel like you're hiding something?"

Dante didn't answer. She sighed and followed her husband out.

Dante stood alone in the silence of his room.

His coffee was cold. He poured it down the sink and walked into the kitchen, his footsteps echoing through the massive house.

The staff were already working. They busied themselves at the counter, pretending not to notice him. But Dante could feel their eyes on him, their whispered conversations.

"Rich people," one murmured. "So much money and still so unhappy."

"His father was screaming at him again. I could hear it from the garden."

Dante ignored them. He sat at the island, not really hungry. His mind was elsewhere.

The girl.

He couldn't stop thinking about her. The way she'd run. The way she'd been afraid.

He should be tracking her down to make sure she didn't talk.

But something held him back.

She's just a girl, he told himself. A nobody.

But she'd seen something. And that made her dangerous.

****

Dante ate his breakfast in silence. He wasn't hungry, but he forced the food down anyway. His body needed fuel, even if his mind was elsewhere.

When he finished, he stood and walked toward the door.

One of the maids stepped forward. "Sir, your meeting with the board is at nine."

"I know."

"Will you be needing the car?"

"I'll drive myself."

He walked out into the morning light. The air was cool, the sky a pale, washed-out blue.

His phone buzzed. He ignored it.

The girl, he thought again. I will find her.

But he wouldn't use his men. Not yet.

He would find her himself.