Chapter 2 - The Dance He Waited Twenty-Three Years For
The ballroom was empty.
No guests.
No reporters.
No nightclub crowd.
Only chandeliers, polished marble, and a small orchestra waiting beside the stage.
Elena stopped.
“You arranged all this tonight?”
“No.”
Dante removed his jacket.
Dark tattoos extended across one hand and disappeared beneath his cuff.
“I've kept this room ready every Friday for six months.”
Elena stared.
“For me?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds insane.”
“Most expensive things do.”
She almost laughed.
Almost.
Then she noticed a photograph sitting on a nearby table.
Elena walked toward it.
A young woman smiled from the picture.
Dark hair.
Brown eyes.
Elena's eyes.
Her hand trembled.
“Who is she?”
Dante stood behind her.
“Your mother.”
Elena turned sharply.
“My mother died when I was six.”
“I know.”
“How do you have her picture?”
“Because Sofia Vance saved my life.”
Elena said nothing.
Dante approached the photograph.
“Twenty-four years ago, my father was fighting for control of the organization. People around him were being killed.”
“What does that have to do with my mother?”
“She was a nurse.”
Elena remembered that much.
“She treated me after I was shot.”
“You knew her?”
“She found me bleeding behind her apartment building.”
Dante's voice became quieter.
“She could've called the police.”
“Why didn't she?”
“Because two men were still looking for me.”
He pointed toward the photograph.
“She hid me.”
Elena stared at him.
“My mother hid a mafia man?”
“I was nineteen.”
“You were still a mafia man.”
“Fair.”
Despite herself, Elena almost smiled.
“What happened?”
“She kept me alive until my people found me.”
Dante's expression darkened.
“Years later, I learned she'd died.”
Elena looked down.
“Cancer.”
“Yes.”
“How did you find me?”
“I didn't.”
Dante's jaw tightened.
“Not until six months ago.”
“Why?”
“Your mother changed your surname.”
Elena frowned.
“No, she didn't.”
“Vance wasn't the name you were born with.”
The room seemed colder.
“What was it?”
Dante hesitated.
“Valenti.”
Elena stepped back.
“No.”
“Elena—”
“No. My father was Michael Vance.”
“The man who raised you was Michael Vance.”
She stared at him.
Dante continued.
“Your biological father was Gabriel Valenti.”
The name meant nothing to her.
Then one of Dante's guards, Marco, entered.
“Boss.”
Dante looked over.
“Not now.”
“It's about Greg.”
Elena immediately turned.
“What about him?”
Marco glanced at her.
“He's making calls.”
“To who?”
Dante's face hardened.
“People he shouldn't be calling.”
Elena crossed her arms.
“Why would my manager care where I went?”
Dante didn't answer.
That frightened her more than an answer would have.
“Dante.”
He finally looked at her.
“Greg wasn't randomly assigned to the Velvet Lounge.”
“What does that mean?”
“He was watching you.”
Elena's stomach dropped.
“For who?”
“That's what we're determining.”
Her phone rang.
Toby.
Elena answered immediately.
“Hey.”
But it wasn't Toby.
“Elena?”
A nurse.
“This is Rachel from NYU Langone.”
Elena gripped the phone.
“What happened?”
“Toby's experiencing complications.”
Her face drained.
“Is he okay?”
“The cardiologist wants to move the procedure forward.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Okay.”
“There is also a financial authorization issue.”
Of course.
“How much?”
The nurse hesitated.
Elena turned away from Dante.
“How much?”
“Approximately eighty-six thousand dollars needs to be guaranteed before—”
“Do it.”
Dante's voice came from behind her.
Elena covered the phone.
“No.”
Dante approached.
“Do it.”
“I don't want your money.”
“Your brother needs surgery.”
“And I don't know what you expect in return.”
His expression changed.
“Nothing.”
“Nobody gives away eighty-six thousand dollars for nothing.”
“Your mother did.”
Silence.
Dante looked directly at her.
“She saved my life without asking whether I could repay her.”
He nodded toward her phone.
“Let me repay her.”
Elena swallowed.
The nurse spoke again.
“Ms. Vance?”
Elena whispered, “One moment.”
Then she looked at Dante.
“No ownership.”
“No.”
“No debt.”
“No.”
“No favors.”
“None.”
“You don't get to control my life.”
“I don't want to.”
She searched his eyes.
“Promise.”
Dante answered immediately.
“I promise.”
Elena returned to the call.
“The money will be guaranteed.”
Dante turned to Marco.
“Handle it.”
Marco nodded.
Then Dante offered Elena his hand.
She stared at it.
“What?”
“You agreed to one dance.”
“My brother—”
“Will have the best cardiac team in New York waiting for him tomorrow morning.”
“How can you know that?”
Dante's expression barely changed.
“Because I own the building next door and the chief surgeon owes me dinner.”
Elena blinked.
“That's your explanation?”
“It's the legal explanation.”
She laughed.
For the first time that night, genuinely.
Dante looked surprised.
Then Elena placed her hand in his.
The orchestra began playing.
He guided her beneath the chandelier.
“You really kept this ballroom ready every Friday?”
“Yes.”
“That is ridiculous.”
“I've been called worse.”
They moved slowly.
Elena looked at him.
“Why was finding me so important?”
Dante's expression became serious.
“Because your mother didn't only save me.”
“What else did she do?”
“She gave me evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
Dante stopped dancing.
May you like
“Evidence that someone inside my family murdered your father.”
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