5. The King’s Leash: The Public Humiliation at the Gala

CHAPTER FIVE

Dante POV

I watched Julian through the vanity mirror as he struggled with the silk tie I’d sent to his room. It was Moretti crimson, the color of fresh arterial spray, a shade that declared war on the shadows of this house. He looked at the fabric with such raw loathing that I half-expected him to use it to hang himself before we reached the car.

He was a masterpiece of controlled rage. The "Golden Prince" had been replaced by something sharper, leaner, and infinitely more dangerous. The bruises on his face had faded to pale yellow, and the tailored black suit clung to his frame like a second skin, accentuating the narrowness of his waist and the defiant set of his shoulders.

"Let me," I said, stepping into the room.

He stiffened, his shoulders drawing back as I moved into his space. The air between us crackled, thick with the scent of his expensive soap and the heat of his anger. I could see his fingers fumbling with the knot, his knuckles white.

"I can do it myself," he snapped, his voice a jagged edge.

"You're shaking, Julian," I noted, my voice dropping into a low rumble that seemed to vibrate against his skin. I pushed his hands aside. They were cold, like ice, while mine were fueled by the steady, dark fire that always sparked when I was near him.

I took the silk in my hands and worked the knot with practiced ease. My knuckles brushed the sensitive skin of his throat, and I felt him stop breathing. I could feel the frantic, rapid-fire pulse in his neck thrumming against my hand like a trapped bird. It was an intoxicating sensation, the physical proof of my power over him.

"Are you afraid of the gala?" I asked, looking him directly in the eye in the mirror. "Or are you afraid of what might happen if you see your brothers?"

"I'm not afraid of them," he hissed, though his pupils were blown wide, swallowing the blue of his irises until they were almost black. "I just don't know if I can keep from killing them. You gave me a gun, remember? Or was that just another test?"

"It was a gift, Julian. I expect you to use it if necessary. But tonight isn't about bullets. It's about optics." I tightened the tie just a fraction too much, a deliberate, silent reminder of who held the leash in this marriage. "The underworld is a sea of sharks. They’ve heard rumours that the Vane heir was sold, but they need to see him tamed. If you flinch, if you look like a victim, they will smell blood. And they won't stop at you. They’ll come for me, and they’ll come for every dock and warehouse we now own."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a heavy gold pin, the Moretti crest, a lion gripping a broken sword. I pinned it to his lapel, right over his heart, my fingers lingering on the fabric.

"There," I whispered, leaning in until my lips were inches from his ear. "Now you look like you belong to me."

"I belong to no one," he whispered back, but he didn't pull away. The defiance was still there, but beneath it was a flicker of something else, a shared darkness that he wasn't ready to admit.

The gala was held at the Grand Ivory, a ballroom dripping with crystal, gold leaf, and the heavy scent of old money and new sins. As we walked in, the music didn't stop, but the atmosphere shifted instantly. It was as if a cold front had swept through the room. Every conversation dipped to a whisper; every head turned.

I kept my hand firmly on the small of Julian’s back, my palm flat against the silk of his jacket. I could feel him trembling, his body vibrating with a mix of terror and pure, unadulterated adrenaline. I guided him through the sea of vipers, including the dons from the neighbouring families, the corrupt judges, and the jackals who fed on the scraps of our wars.

Then, I saw them.

Leo and Marcus Vane stood near the champagne fountain, surrounded by a group of minor associates. They looked comfortable, as if they had already spent the first few millions of the blood money they’d taken for their brother. Leo wore a watch that cost as much as a small house, and Marcus laughed at a joke, a flute of vintage Cristal in his hand.

When Leo saw us, the laughter died in his throat. His face went pale, his eyes darting from me to the crimson tie around Julian’s neck, the mark of the Moretti.

"Dante," Leo stammered as we approached, his voice lacking the bravado he’d had in my parlor. "We didn't expect to see you... Or Julian... so soon. We thought you'd be... indisposed."

"It's a wedding celebration, Leo," I said, my voice carrying just enough to let the surrounding guests hear. I let my hand slide from Julian’s back to his shoulder, pulling him a half-inch closer to my side. "I thought it was only right that Julian’s brothers were the first to see how well he’s settled into his new life. He’s proving to be quite an... adaptable partner."

Julian stepped forward, breaking my hold on him with a sharp movement. He didn't look like the broken man I’d pulled from that basement. He looked like a King returning to claim a debt.

"You look well, Leo," Julian said, his voice unnervingly calm. He reached out and adjusted Leo’s collar, his fingers lingering near his brother's jugular. "That watch is new. Patek Philippe? It’s exquisite. It must have cost a fortune. Or perhaps... it cost a brother?"

The circle of guests went silent. The only sound was the faint bubbling of the champagne fountain. Marcus tried to step in, his face flushing with a mix of guilt and anger. "Julian, don't make a scene. You were always the dramatic one. We did what had to be done to save the firm."

"The firm?" Julian laughed, a cold, hollow sound that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. "You sold me like livestock to line your own pockets. You didn't save the firm; you liquidated it. And you liquidated me with it."

Julian’s hand dropped to his waist, brushing against the concealed holster I’d helped him fit earlier that evening. I saw Leo’s eyes go wide as he realized his "pampered" little brother was armed.

"Enough," I said, stepping back to his side and reclaiming my position of dominance. I looked at the Vane brothers with the clinical boredom I reserved for insects I was about to crush. "The Prince is tired of talking to ghosts. Enjoy your drinks, gentlemen. They’re the last I’ll pay for. By tomorrow morning, your accounts will be as empty as your promises."

As I led Julian away, he was vibrating with so much energy I thought he might shatter. We moved toward the balcony, stepping out into the cold night air, away from the prying eyes and the suffocating scent of lilies.

"You did well," I said, handing him a glass of water from a passing waiter.

He took it and downed it in one go, his eyes never leaving the ballroom floor through the glass doors. "I wanted to kill him. My hand was on the grip, Dante. I could have ended it right there, in front of everyone."

"Why didn't you?" I asked, watching the way the moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face.

He looked at me then, and for the first time, the "Golden Prince" mask was gone entirely. There was only the Widow’s Blood Debt. "Because a quick death is too good for them. I want them to watch while you and I take everything they have left. I want them to be as cold and alone as I was in that basement when I realized my own blood had betrayed me."

He reached out, his fingers brushing against the Moretti pin on his chest. It was a subconscious gesture of acceptance, even if he didn't realize it yet. "I’m wearing your name, Dante. I’m playing your game. But make no mistake I’m doing this for me."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I said. I stepped closer, closing the distance until our shadows merged on the stone floor. I reached out, my thumb tracing the line of his jaw. "I didn't marry you to have a puppet, Julian. I married you because I wanted a partner who could survive the fire."

I leaned in until our foreheads touched. I could feel the heat radiating off him, the sheer force of his will. I had set out to break a Prince and use his name as a shield. Instead, I had armed a monster and given him a reason to hunt.

"The war starts tomorrow," I whispered. "Tonight, you’re just mine."

He didn't pull away. He didn't lean in. He simply stood his ground, a beautiful, deadly storm trapped in my orbit. I had never been more obsessed. I had never been more certain I would burn this entire city to the ground to keep him standing by my side.

We stood there in the silence, two predators overlooking a city that had no idea what was coming. The "Golden Prince" was dead, and in his place, something far more terrifying had been born.

And I was the only one who held the leash.