Chapter 2 - THE MIDNIGHT ULTIMATUM
Hook: A blood oath broken in the dark.The standoff inside Eclipse lasted only a minute, but to Angel, it felt like an eternity. Greta’s face twisted in fury, realizing that Dorian was willing to risk a full-scale mafia war just to protect a girl in a green dress.
With a bitter laugh, Greta signaled her men to lower their weapons. “You’re mad, Dorian. Your father will hear about this before sunrise.” She threw a venomous glare at Angel. “Enjoy the dress, sweetheart. It’s going to make a beautiful shroud.”
Within ten minutes, the club was cleared. Deb and Henry practically dragged Angel out into a waiting black SUV, sent by Dorian to ensure her safety.
Inside her apartment later that night, the atmosphere was suffocating. Deb paced back and forth across the hardwood floor, her medical instincts translating into pure panic. “Are you insane, Angel? That woman is a Maro! They don’t sue people, they bury them in the foundations of buildings!”
“I know what they are,” Angel said softly, standing by the window and looking down at the rainy Manhattan streets. She was still wearing the green dress, its silk cold against her skin now.
“Do you?” Henry asked, his voice unusually serious as he discarded his usual sarcastic tone. “Angel, Dorian is trapped. This marriage isn't just about business; it's a blood oath. If he backs out, the Maros and the Espositos will slaughter each other in the streets. You’re inserting yourself into a meat grinder.”
“He kissed me, Henry,” Angel said, her voice cracking as a single tear escaped her eye. “A year ago, he looked at me like I was the only real thing in his entire world. I’ve spent twelve months watching him pretend I don’t exist. I’m not letting him marry a monster without making him admit the truth.”
Before Henry could answer, a heavy, rhythmic knock echoed at the front door.
Deb gasped, instantly freezing. Henry reached for a heavy brass lamp on the side table. Angel’s heart leaped into her throat. She walked slowly to the door, peering through the peephole.
It was him.
Angel unlocked the deadbolt and threw the door open. Dorian stood in the hallway, his jacket gone, his white shirt stained with a smear of dark blood across the cuff, and his hair disheveled from the rain. He didn’t wait for an invitation. He stepped inside, slammed the door shut, and locked it behind him.
“Out,” Dorian barked at Henry and Deb. His voice left no room for argument.
Henry looked like he wanted to fight, but Deb pulled him toward the back door. “We’ll be at my place,” she told Angel, giving her a look full of dread before they slipped out the fire escape.
The apartment fell dead silent. Dorian stood there, breathing heavily, his eyes raking over Angel’s body, still clad in the emerald green satin.
“You shouldn’t have come to the club,” he growled, taking a predatory step toward her.
“You shouldn’t have saved me if you didn’t care,” she shot back, retreating until her lower back hit the kitchen counter.
Dorian closed the distance in a fraction of a second. He pinned her against the counter, his hands slamming down on the marble on either side of her hips. He was so close she could feel the frantic thumping of his heart against her own chest.
“I care so much it’s killing me!” he roared, his mask of control finally shattering completely. “Do you think I want to marry Greta? Do you think I want that cold, corporate viper in my bed? My father is dying of cancer, Angel. The Maro family holds the shipping routes we need to survive. If I don't marry her, my family gets wiped out. I am doing this to keep the peace. To keep you safe.”
“By marrying someone else?” Angel cried, her hands coming up to rest against his broad chest. “That’s not safety, Dorian. That’s a prison.”
“Then let me be a prisoner!” Dorian cried, his voice breaking with raw agony. He leaned down, his lips hovering mere millimeters from hers. “But God help me, seeing you in this dress tonight... watching another man touch you... I wanted to burn this city to ash. If you wear this again, Angel, I swear to you, I will ruin everything just to keep you.”
“Then ruin it,” Angel whispered.
Dorian groaned, a sound of pure surrender, and slammed his lips onto hers.
May you like
The kiss was nothing like the gentle mistake of a year ago. It was violent, passionate, and filled with the desperation of two doomed lovers. Dorian’s hands tangled in her honey-brown hair, pulling her head back as he consumed her. Angel wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, the green dress riding up as they lost themselves in the dark, dangerous thrill of the forbidden.
For one night, the mafia didn't exist. There were no Maros, no treaties, and no impending weddings. There was only the heat of their skin and a promise written in the dark.
