Chapter 8 - The Reorganization
Three weeks later.
The Grand Ashford Hotel was once again hosting a high-society event—this time, the annual Chicago Waterfront Preservation Gala, sponsored entirely by the Moretti Enterprises Logistics Group.
The Grand Ballroom was filled with three hundred guests, including city council members, international shipping executives, and high-ranking state officials.
At the center of the main table sat Damien Moretti, wearing an immaculate black tuxedo. His shoulder had healed completely, his posture commanding and regal.
Beside him sat Vanessa.
She wore a breathtaking, floor-length crimson silk gown with a subtle side slit, her dark hair styled in soft, glamorous waves, wearing a diamond necklace that caught the light of the chandeliers.
She looked every inch the refined, high-society matriarch.
"Look at her," Councilman Miller whispered to his wife at the adjacent table, raising his glass. "So soft, so gentle. It's amazing how a man like Damien Moretti can be so entirely subdued by such a delicate woman."
Damien heard the whisper from three feet away.
He didn't get angry. He didn't correct the councilman.
Instead, Damien took a slow sip of his bourbon, a tiny, dark, knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Vanessa turned her head slightly toward Damien, her dark eyes sparkling with wicked amusement.
"Should I throw a shoe at him, darling?" Vanessa whispered softly into Damien's ear, her tone light and playful.
Damien let out a quiet, rumbling chuckle, reaching under the table to place his hand firmly on her silk-covered thigh.
"Save the shoes for our enemies, my love," Damien whispered back. "Councilman Miller is paying us three million dollars for waterfront access next month."
"A wise business decision," Vanessa murmured smoothly, resting her hand over his.
At that moment, Marco approached the table, leaning down to speak quietly into Damien’s ear.
"Boss," Marco reported in a hushed tone. "The shipment from Marseille arrived at Dock 14 ten minutes ago. The French captain is refusing to sign the revised manifest without a twenty percent cash bonus."
Damien’s expression darkened slightly. "The French captain thinks he can renegotiate three miles off our coast?"
"He's being difficult, sir," Marco said. "Should I take three men down to the dock and handle it?"
Before Damien could answer, Vanessa picked up her silk napkin, gently dabbed her lips, and looked up at Marco with a brilliant, pleasant smile.
"Marco," Vanessa said softly.
"Yes, Mrs. Moretti?"
"Tell the captain that Vanessa Vance sends her warmest regards from Geneva," Vanessa instructed smoothly. "Tell him that if he signs the manifest within ten minutes, I will personally send him a bottle of 1982 Chateau Lafite. If he doesn't sign it... tell him I will come down to Dock 14 in my evening gown and sign it for him."
Marco blinked, his jaw dropping slightly as he remembered what happened to Luca Bellini and Giovanni Valenti.
"Understood, Mrs. Moretti!" Marco said quickly, bowing his head. "I will deliver the message immediately!"
Damien watched Marco hurry away across the ballroom floor as if fleeing a house fire.
He turned back to Vanessa, his arm wrapping around the back of her chair, his eyes dark with immense pride and unspoken desire.
May you like
"You're enjoying this too much," Damien whispered rasply.
"I spent three years being polite to boring people, Damien," Vanessa replied, tilting her head to give him a dangerous, sultry look. "It's nice to stretch my legs."
