Chapter 3 - A New Alliance
I didn't blink. I simply looked at the man who held my life in his hands. “Are you going to eat the food, Diego?”
Diego let out a low, dark laugh that echoed off the cold stone walls. He walked over to a wet bar in the corner of the room, poured two glasses of neat bourbon, and walked back. He handed one to me.
“If you wanted me dead, Noelle, you wouldn't have shown me the scars,” he said, his eyes scanning my exposed skin with a new, intense focus. “You would have kept the dress on, played the weeping victim, and slipped the cyanide into my glass while I was celebrating my victory.”
I took the glass, the amber liquid burning my throat as I took a slow sip. “Thomas underestimates me. He always has. He thinks because I endured the abuse in silence, I am weak. He doesn't realize that silence is where you learn how to watch, how to listen, and how to plan.”
Diego leaned against the heavy oak table, crossing his arms. The dynamic between us had completely shifted. The master-and-captive routine was dead, replaced by something far more dangerous: mutual understanding.
“Tell me about the southern docks,” Diego said suddenly.
I raised an eyebrow. “What about them?”
“Thomas told me he lost the ledgers. He claimed the shipping manifests were destroyed in the warehouse fire last month.”
“Thomas is an idiot,” I said plainly. “The ledgers weren't destroyed. He transferred the ownership of the dummy corporations to a private Swiss account under our mother’s maiden name—Vance. He’s been funneling forty percent of the drug revenue out of the city for the last six months, preparing for his escape.”
Diego’s eyes widened slightly, a predatory gleam returning to them. “You know the account numbers?”
“I know the account numbers, the routing codes, and the names of the dirty customs officials he pays off every Tuesday at the harbor,” I said, stepping closer to him, the lace slip brushing against his tailored trousers. “I know everything, Diego. I spent ten years acting like furniture in my father’s office while they discussed their crimes in front of me.”
Diego looked down at me, his gaze shifting from my face to the deep cigar burn near my collarbone. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his hand. His fingers hovered over the scar for a second before gently pressing against it. His touch was surprisingly warm, completely devoid of the violence I had expected.
“They did this to you, and they thought they could use you to destroy me,” he murmured, his thumb brushing the edge of the damaged skin. “They have no idea what they’ve unleashed.”
“So, what happens now, husband?” I asked, challenging him with my gaze. “Am I still your hostage?”
Diego’s grip on my face tightened, but it was firm, protective. “No. The hostage is dead. You’re Mrs. Ramos now. And in this house, we don't cower. We strike back.”
He turned around, walking toward the large glass windows overlooking the stormy ocean. “Thomas thinks he’s safe because he’s surrounded by the Corleoni family’s enforcers. He thinks the wedding bought him time. We’re going to let him believe that. We’re going to let him think his plan is working.”
“And then?”
Diego turned back to me, his dark eyes burning with a terrifying, beautiful rage. “And then we take everything he has left. I wanted revenge on the Martin family, Noelle. I thought that meant ruining you. But now? I think revenge means letting you help me tear your brother limb from limb.”
Suddenly, the heavy iron doors of the grand hall burst open. One of Diego’s primary enforcers, a massive man named Marco, rushed in, his face pale and covered in sweat.
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“Boss, we have a problem,” Marco gasped, looking at me in my slip, then quickly looking away out of respect. “The Martin mansion... it’s on fire. Thomas didn't wait for the poison. He’s trying to erase the evidence, and he’s kidnapped your younger sister, Sofia.”
HOOK: The war wasn't over. Thomas had just crossed the one line that turned Diego Ramos from a ruthless don into an absolute monster.
