Chapter 7 - SHADOWS AT THE GALA
The waltz ended to polite, hesitant applause from the crowd.
Before Matteo could lead Elena off the dance floor, Don Hector Falcone stepped forward, blocking their path with his silver cane.
"Matteo," Don Hector rasped, his voice sounding like dry paper rubbing together. "A magnificent party. It has been too long since these doors were open."
"Hector," Matteo replied coldly, stepping slightly in front of Elena. "I'm surprised you found the time to attend."
"I never miss an opportunity to pay my respects," Hector said, his yellowed eyes flicking over Elena like a snake assessing prey. "Especially when the host brings such a... fragile guest into the lion's den."
"She is not fragile," Matteo warned softly. "And this is my den, Hector. Don't forget who owns the lions."
Hector chuckled darkly, leaning heavy on his cane. "We shall see, young man. We shall see."
Hector turned and slipped back into the crowd, Bianca following closely behind him with a smug, cat-like smirk.
Ten minutes later, Matteo was called away to a private corner of the terrace by Frank Russo to discuss a security breach at the northern gate perimeter.
"Stay here near the bar, Elena," Matteo instructed, kissing her knuckles gently before leaving. "I will be back in two minutes."
Elena stood near the velvet-draped pillars, sipping sparkling water.
"Well, well. Look at the little maid playing dress-up."
Elena turned to see Julian—her ex-fiancé—standing behind her.
Julian looked handsome in a gray tuxedo, but his eyes were red-rimmed, smelling faintly of cheap scotch. After his family severed ties with Elena's father, Julian’s political career had stalled, leaving him bitter and resentful.
"Julian," Elena said coldly, taking a step back. "What are you doing here?"
"I came with the Falcones' legal team," Julian sneered, stepping into her personal space. "I saw you dancing with him, Elena. Have you lost your mind? He’s a murderer! A mob boss!"
"He's ten times the man you will ever be," Elena retorted sharply, her eyes flashing with anger. "You abandoned me the second things got difficult. You left me to drown."
Julian’s face flushed red with humiliation. He reached out, grabbing her wrist tightly. "You think he cares about you? You're just a pet to him! A little trophy to rub in the Falcones' face! Once he gets what he wants, he'll throw you out just like your father—"
CLANK.
Julian didn't finish his sentence.
A large, ice-cold hand grabbed Julian by the throat, slamming him violently back against the marble pillar.
Matteo stood over him like an enraged demon. His face was twisted into a terrifying mask of absolute, lethal fury. His fingers dug so deep into Julian’s throat that the younger man’s eyes rolled back in pain.
"Touch her again," Matteo whispered, his voice vibrating with pure death, "and I will tear your arm off and feed it to the dogs in the alley."
"M-Matteo! Please!" Julian choked out, thrashing helplessly.
"Matteo, stop!" Elena begged, grabbing his forearm. "Don't ruin tonight! He's not worth it!"
Matteo looked at Elena. The blinding rage in his gray eyes slowly receded, replaced by concern for her.
He released Julian, who crumpled onto the floor, coughing violently and clutching his throat.
"Get him out of here," Matteo ordered two guards standing nearby. "Throw him in the river if he ever comes back to Medina."
The guards dragged the sobbing Julian away through the side exit.
Matteo turned to Elena, taking her hands in his. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Elena breathed, shaking her head. "I'm fine. Thanks to you."
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Before Matteo could answer, Frank rushed up to them, his face pale and covered in cold sweat.
"Boss," Frank gasped, leaning in close. "We have a problem upstairs. The guest room... Clara is gone."
