Chapter 6 - The Trap is Set
The morning after the kiss, the atmosphere inside the Santoro Manor shifted completely.
There was no awkwardness, no retreat into professional distance. Belvin treated Naomi with an intense, territorial focus that sent ripples through his entire organization. His guards spoke to her with newfound deference, recognizing the quiet authority she now held as the only person who could walk into Belvin's private study unannounced—and the only person who could quiet his lethal dog with a gentle word.
However, the threat of Julian Vance hung over the estate like a heavy thundercloud.
For three days, Belvin’s intelligence network scoured New York City for Vance’s location. The rival boss was acting like a ghost, striking at Belvin's shipping lines, burning two illegal casinos in Queens, and vanishing back into the shadows before Santoro enforcers could arrive.
On Friday morning, Naomi was in the estate grounds, running Titan through an advanced agility course she had constructed on the back lawn. The pitbull was moving with lightning speed, jumping hurdles, weaving through poles, and executing complex commands with absolute precision.
Belvin watched from the terrace, holding a silver coffee cup, accompanied by Leo.
"He doesn't even look like the same animal," Leo remarked quietly, marveling at how Titan executed a flawless stay-and-recall command from fifty yards away. "Six weeks ago, he tried to bite my arm off."
"She didn't just train the dog, Leo," Belvin said, his gaze fixed entirely on Naomi as she laughed, throwing a rubber toy for Titan to catch mid-air. "She tamed the monster."
"And you, boss?" Leo asked carefully, risking a dangerous question. "Did she tame you too?"
Belvin didn't answer immediately. He took a slow sip of his coffee, his dark eyes never leaving Naomi’s radiant smile. "She didn't tame me, Leo. She gave me something worth protecting."
Before Leo could reply, Belvin's phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, answering on the second ring.
"Speak."
"Mr. Santoro," a voice purred through the speaker. Smooth, arrogant, and laced with midwestern aristocratic malice.
Belvin’s posture went dead rigid. "Vance."
"It’s been a long time, Belvin," Julian Vance chuckled coldly. "You thought those two bullets in my chest were enough? You should have shot me in the head."
"I’ll rectify that mistake by sundown," Belvin said, his voice dropping to a register that made Leo involuntarily step back.
"I don't think so," Vance sneered. "I’m calling to offer you a trade. You have something that belongs to me."
Belvin’s eyes narrowed into slits. "I have nothing of yours."
"Oh, but you do," Vance laughed softly. "Naomi Rivers. Her father owed me twenty million dollars before he vanished into thin air. I’ve been looking for that little bitch for three years. Imagine my surprise when my contacts at Presbyterian Hospital informed me that her sister’s oncology bills were being paid directly out of the Santoro Foundation."
Belvin’s blood turned to liquid nitrogen. "Touch her or her sister, and I will tear your empire down stone by stone."
"It’s already done, Belvin," Vance whispered dangerously. "Check your hospital security cameras."
Belvin slammed his thumb onto his phone, bringing up the live feed of Maya’s room at New York-Presbyterian.
The screen showed two masked men standing inside Maya’s private room. One held a silenced pistol to the sleeping girl’s temple, while the other held up a newspaper with today’s date.
"Maya..." Belvin growled, his knuckles cracking as he squeezed the phone.
"Here’s the deal, Santoro," Vance said, his voice dripping with venomous triumph. "Bring the girl to Pier 42 at midnight. Unarmed. Just you, Naomi, and her father’s debt. You give her to me, and your little sister lives. You try anything clever, and my men will paint that hospital room red."
The line went dead.
Belvin stood on the terrace, his chest rising and falling heavily. Down on the lawn, Naomi picked up the rubber toy, looking up at the terrace with a bright, beautiful smile that shattered Belvin’s heart.
She didn't know yet.
Belvin turned to Leo, his expression terrifying in its complete lack of emotion.
"Assemble the strike team," Belvin commanded softly. "Every man we have. Weapons hot."
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"Boss, if we raid the hospital, they’ll kill the sister!" Leo warned.
"We aren't raiding the hospital," Belvin replied, looking down at Titan, who had stopped playing and was now looking up at the house, ears pinned back, sensing the impending war. "We are going to Pier 42. And we are going to burn Julian Vance to ash."
