Chapter 4

I zipped my duffel bag. Tonight was the night. I was leaving him. 

I grabbed the handle, pulled the bedroom door open, and froze. 

Dante stood in the hallway, adjusting the cuffs of a sharp black tuxedo. Behind him, Chloe was dripping in diamonds, her lips painted a bright, victorious red. 

Dante’s eyes darted to my bag. Raw panic flashed across his face. 

He immediately stepped into my path, his voice tight and desperate. "Where are you going? You promised me you would never leave."

"I didn't tell you about the cruise gala tonight. I thought you needed to rest after the clinic."

Before I could speak, Chloe stepped forward, looping her arm through his. "Oh, Kalinda! You should come with us. It’s a charity auction. Actually, I bought a dress yesterday, but they gave me the wrong size. It would look absolutely stunning on you."

She didn't wait for my answer. She grabbed my wrist and dragged me into the dressing room. 

Ten minutes later, I stared at the mirror. The champagne-colored silk gown hugged my curves flawlessly. 

When I walked out, Dante stopped breathing. His dark eyes swept over me, raw hunger flashing in them for a split second. Then, he looked away. 

"Let’s go," he muttered.

The ocean wind whipped my hair as we boarded the Starlight. 

Almost the second his leather shoes hit the deck, Dante’s posture changed. His shoulders hunched slightly. His eyes darted around the crowded ballroom, paranoid and cold. 

Kane was out. 

He grabbed my arm, his grip bruising. "You used to serve drinks, right? Go make yourself useful. Entertain my guests. Don't just stand there."

He shoved a silver tray of champagne flutes into my hands and pushed me toward the center stage. 

I walked up the steps, offering drinks to the sneering mobsters. 

Suddenly, the lights cut out. The massive LED screen behind the stage flared to life. 

A video started playing. It was me. Five years ago at the underground club. But it was heavily, maliciously edited. The footage was slowed down, zooming in as men shoved cash into my apron. They dubbed cheap, moaning audio over the background noise. It made me look like a desperate streetwalker. 

"Turn it off!" I dropped the tray. Glass shattered everywhere. I lunged for the AV cables near the speaker. 

Rip.

The thin silk strap of my gown snapped. The bodice fell open, exposing my chest and my lace underwear. 

Gasps echoed through the room. Then, vicious laughter. 

I crossed my arms over my chest, my face burning. I looked frantically at Kane. 

He was standing by the bar, swirling his whiskey. His eyes were dead. 

"She’s just doing it for attention, Kane," Chloe whispered. "She misses her old life. She wants them to look at her."

Kane smirked. "Pathetic. Let her put on a show."

I backed away, pulling the torn fabric up with shaking hands. I slipped into the dark corridor near the restrooms. Pulling out my burner phone, I quickly texted the number. 

I’m trapped on the Winston cruise. I can't make it to the pier.

Loud cheers erupted from the VIP tables, pulling me back to reality. 

I crept back into the ballroom, hiding in the shadows. Chloe was sitting at the high-stakes poker table. She pushed a massive pile of chips into the center. 

"All in," she said. 

Luca, the brutal boss of the rival syndicate, laughed around his thick cigar. He flipped his cards. "Read 'em and weep, sweetheart. Full house."

Chloe’s face drained of color. 

"You lost," Luca sneered, leaning over the green felt. "You know the stakes we agreed on. Strip."

The crowd of men roared. 

Chloe burst into tears. She shrank back in her chair, shaking her head. "No! I'm sorry, Luca, I lost, I admit it. But I can't take off my clothes. My body belongs to the Winston family."

Lane stepped forward, pulling her behind him. His jaw was clenched tight. "How much did she lose? I'll cover it. Don't make it difficult for a little girl."

Luca blew a ring of smoke. "Rules of the underworld. You play, you pay. Is your woman’s word worth nothing? What's the difference between her breaking a promise and you breaking one?"

Chloe buried her face in Kane’s chest, sobbing loudly. "What do you want us to do?" 

Luca chuckled. His cold eyes scanned the room and locked onto me in the corner. 

"She doesn't have to strip," Luca said, pointing a fat finger at me. "Let your wife do it. I remember the Madam used to be the Nightclub Queen anyway. This is right up her alley."

Kane’s entire body went rigid. He pressed his lips into a hard, thin line. He didn't immediately pull his gun. He didn't immediately refuse. 

It’s Dante.I recognized.

Chloe sniffled, grabbing the hem of her dress. "It's fine. I'll do it. Dante, I won't let them humiliate you."

She made a pathetic show of pulling down her zipper. 

Dante grabbed her hands, stopping her. 

Then, he turned to look at me. 

"Kalinda," he said. 

"Chloe hasn't seen this kind of scene before."

I stared at him. 

"You used to do this for a living," he continued, his voice dropping lower, pleading with me. "You're different. You can take it."

The man who once carved his own flesh with a hunting knife just because Kane left a bruise on my wrist. The man who swore he would burn the city down before letting anyone disrespect me. 

He was asking me to strip for a room full of monsters to protect her. 

A bitter, broken smile spread across my face. 

Luca snapped his fingers. 

They dragged me to a heavy leather chair in the center of the room and slammed me down. 

"Get your hands off me!" I screamed, kicking at them. 

They gripped my shoulders. One of them grabbed the front of my ruined champagne dress and ripped it violently. The silk tore straight down the middle. 

Cold air hit my bare skin. I was left sitting there in nothing but my thin lingerie. 

Whistles and foul comments erupted from the crowd. Camera flashes blinded me. 

"Damn, I always heard the Don's wife had a killer body!" a man slurred from the front row, his eyes raking over me. "Finally getting a front-row seat!"

"Look at her, shaking like a stray dog," another voice mocked cruelly. "Dante doesn’t even care. He’s too busy protecting his real-love woman to give a damn about this trash."

"Hey, Kalinda!" a fat, cigar-smoking thug yelled over the roaring crowd. "Since your husband threw you to the wolves, how much for a night? I’ve got five hundred bucks that says you still know how to serve a man on your knees!"

Hot, humiliating tears poured down my cheeks. I looked through the crowd, searching for my husband. 

Dante had turned his back to me. He was holding Chloe tightly against his chest, shielding her eyes from the scene. 

He let them do it. 

Fine. I will never, ever expect anything from you again, Dante.