Chapter 5 - Whispers and War
The Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a sea of black ties, silk gowns, and hidden weapons.
Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over three hundred of New York’s most powerful figures—corrupt politicians, billionaire developers, and the high-ranking leaders of the city's crime syndicates.
When the heavy double doors opened and the butler announced, "Don Aleandro Moretti and his fiancée, Mrs. Elena Rossi," the entire room fell into a stunned silence.
Gasps echoed across the marble floor. Dozens of camera flashes went off near the entrance. High-society women whispered behind diamond-encrusted fans, while hardened mafia lieutenants stared in absolute disbelief. Don Moretti—the untouchable bachelor who had executed three rivals last spring—was walking into the room holding a woman’s waist as if she were made of pure glass.
Elena felt every eye in the room burning into her skin. Her hand trembled against Aleandro’s jacket.
Instantly, Aleandro’s arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer until her hip was pressed firmly against his leg. He leaned down, his warm lips lightly brushing against the shell of her ear.
"Breathe, mia cara," he whispered, his voice dark and intoxicating. "They are staring because you are the most beautiful woman in this room. Let them burn with envy."
A small shiver ran down Elena's spine at the Italian term of endearment. She looked up at him, forcing a radiant, beautiful smile to her lips. "Is this part of the act?"
"No," Aleandro murmured, his eyes lingering on her mouth. "That part was the truth."
Before Elena could process his words, a group of wealthy mafia matriarchs approached them, led by Victoria Falcone—the arrogant wife of a Brooklyn underboss.
"Aleandro, darling!" Victoria purred, her eyes scanning Elena with vicious scrutiny. "We were shocked to hear the news. We had no idea you were dating. Where did you meet this... mysterious girl?"
Elena felt the subtle insult hidden beneath the woman’s tone. Before Aleandro could answer, Elena stepped forward slightly, holding her head high with the quiet grace of a woman who had survived real hardship.
"We met at the estate, Mrs. Falcone," Elena said smoothly, her voice calm and perfectly poised. "Aleandro values loyalty and strength above flashiness. I suppose he found both in me."
Victoria’s smile stiffened. "I heard a rumor you were working as staff."
Aleandro’s atmosphere instantly plummeted to sub-zero temperatures. He took a slow step forward, towering over Victoria with lethal menace. "You would do well to remember who you are speaking to, Victoria. Elena is the future matriarch of the Moretti family. Any disrespect shown to her is an insult to my name."
Victoria paled, taking a step back. "Of course... forgive me, Don Moretti."
From across the room, Carmine Valenti watched the interaction, swirling an olive in his martini glass. His eyes narrowed as he saw how fiercely Aleandro protected the woman. Carmine snapped his fingers, summoning his chief Enforcer, a brutal hitman named Victor.
"They're putting on a good show," Carmine hissed quietly. "Test them. Send two men to tail their car when they leave. I want to see if Aleandro really keeps her under full guard, or if she’s just a shiny toy he leaves out in the open."
An hour later, Aleandro and Elena excused themselves, stepping out into the cool midnight air of Manhattan. Their armored black SUV pulled up to the curb.
As Aleandro held the door open for Elena, a sudden, high-pitched whistle echoed down the dark avenue.
PFT! PFT!
Two silenced gunshots shattered the night air!
The passenger-side window of the SUV exploded into tiny glass crystals.
"Get down!" Aleandro roared.
In a split second of blinding motion, Aleandro tackled Elena to the pavement, covering her body entirely with his own large frame. He pulled a heavy silver handgun from his shoulder holster, firing three rapid shots into the darkness of the alley across the street.
A scream torn from Elena’s throat as the roar of gunfire echoed around them. Aleandro held her down tight against his chest, his body acting as an impenetrable shield.
"Marco! Left flank!" Aleandro yelled into his collar mic.
Moretti guards instantly returned fire, forcing the attackers into a high-speed retreat down the alley. Within thirty seconds, the street went quiet again, save for the wailing of distant sirens.
Aleandro pushed himself up slightly, his grey eyes wild with dark adrenaline as he scanned Elena’s face. "Are you hit?! Elena, look at me! Are you hurt?!"
Elena panted, her eyes wide with terror, her silk dress torn at the knee. "I... I'm okay. I'm okay! Aleandro... your shoulder!"
Blood was soaking through the shoulder of Aleandro’s tuxedo jacket where a bullet had grazed him.
He didn't even glance at his own blood. He scooped Elena up into his arms like she weighed nothing, striding briskly into the backseat of a backup security car that pulled up beside them.
"Drive!" Aleandro growled to the chauffeur.
As the car sped away toward the estate, Elena ripped a strip of silk from her gown, frantically pressing it against Aleandro's bleeding shoulder. "You took a bullet for me!" she cried out, tears spilling over her lashes. "Why would you do that?!"
Aleandro reached up with his uninjured hand, gripping her face gently, his thumb wiping away her tears.
"Because I lied to you, Elena," he confessed, his voice heavy with raw, unfiltered emotion as the city lights flashed across his hard features.
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Elena stopped, her hands staying still over his wound. "What?"
"This fake engagement..." Aleandro whispered, his dark eyes searching hers with a desperate intensity. "I didn't just claim you to protect you from Carmine. I claimed you because from the moment your little girl ordered me to apologize... I knew I could never let either of you go."
