Chapter 6 - The Lion in the Study|
At two in the morning, the Moretti estate was bathed in shadow, save for the bright amber light pouring from the windows of the grand study on the second floor.
Dante sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his black tie unknotted, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his forearms. A glass of aged scotch sat untouched near his elbow.
The three-carat diamond ring sat in the exact center of his blotter.
The door opened without a knock.
A tall, broad man with silver hair and a deeply scarred jaw walked in, leaning slightly on a silver-topped cane.
Salvatore "Uncle Sal" Moretti.
"You're staring at a piece of glass like it's going to talk to you, Dante," Sal rasped, his voice sounding like grinding stones.
Dante didn't look up. "She didn't do it, Sal."
Sal walked over to the desk, his leather shoes clicking heavily against the hardwood floor. He pulled out a leather armchair and sat down, resting both hands on his cane.
"The necklace was in her bag, nephew," Sal said coldly. "Marco pulled it out in front of twenty witnesses. Sophia is hysterics, and the captains are already asking why the boss's fiancée is pinching family jewels like a street addict."
"Isabella comes from an honest family!" Dante slammed his fist onto the desk, making the scotch glass jump. "Her father was a baker! She works as a corporate accountant! She has never touched a stolen dime in her life!"
"Then why did she run?" Sal asked, his sharp gray eyes locking onto Dante’s face. "A woman who is innocent stands her ground. She doesn't throw her ring in your face and walk out into a rainstorm."
Dante stared at the diamond glowing under his desk lamp.
Now you have two pieces of jewelry to investigate.
Her words echoed in his ears, sharp and burning. She hadn't run out of guilt. She had left out of absolute, unadulterated disgust. Disgust at his family, and disgust at him.
"She left because I failed her," Dante whispered, his voice cracking slightly.
Sal sneered. "You didn't fail her, Dante. You acted like the Don of this family. You enforced the rule. If you had shielded her, Carlo and the captains would have smelled weakness."
Dante’s head snapped up. "Carlo?"
"Carlo was the one who kept the situation calm tonight," Sal pointed out. "He suggested the private check. He was thinking about the family's reputation while you were standing there looking like a struck dog."
Dante’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. A faint memory from three hours ago flashed in his mind—the way Carlo had hovered near the armchair where Isabella had set her bag down before dinner.
"Where is Carlo now?" Dante asked softly.
"Downstairs in the lounge, having a cigar with the boys," Sal said. "Why?"
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Dante slowly picked up the engagement ring from his desk, slipping it into his vest pocket over his heart.
"Because," Dante growled, standing up from his chair, "I want to ask him why he was so eager to search my wife's bag."
