Chapter 6 - The Viper's Tooth
Natalie stood up immediately, stepping between the man and Ava.
"This is a private suite," Natalie said, keeping her voice calm and firm. "You need to leave."
The man chuckled—a dry, raspy sound. "I am Vincent Moretti, my dear. I go wherever I please in this city."
Ava stiffened on the couch, sensing the tension, her hands flying to her ears.
"You're disturbing the child, Mr. Moretti," Natalie said, refusing to back down. She reached behind her back, surreptitiously pressing the panic button on the key fob Damian had given her. "If you have business with Mr. DeLuca, speak to him in the ballroom."
Moretti took a slow step forward, his eyes sweeping over Natalie’s dress and necklace with sneering disgust.
"Damian thinks he can hide behind soft women and sick children," Moretti sneered softly. "He thinks he can control the river ports while he spends his nights playing house with a retail clerk."
He reached out a gloved hand, attempting to grab Natalie’s chin. "Tell me, sweetheart... how much is he paying you to pretend he’s a human being?"
Before Moretti's fingers could touch her skin, the door slammed open with the force of an explosion.
Damian stepped into the room.
His face was a portrait of absolute, terrifying fury. In one fluid, terrifying movement, he grabbed Moretti by the throat, slamming him against the far wall with such force that a framed oil painting shattered on the floor.
Marco and three DeLuca security men poured into the room, instantly disarming Moretti's two bodyguards and pinning them against the marble floor.
"If you ever put your hand toward her again," Damian whispered, his voice vibrating with lethal hatred, his fingers tightening around Moretti's windpipe, "I will bleed you out in front of your own men."
Moretti gasped for air, his eyes bulging with fear. "Damian... it was... a joke..."
Damian shoved him to the floor like a sack of trash. "Get him out of my sight before I kill him here."
Marco dragged Moretti and his men out into the hallway, slamming the door shut.
The room fell into an eerie, trembling quiet.
Damian stood in the center of the room, his chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists. He looked at Natalie, his eyes filled with a terrifying, raw rage that slowly began to break down into desperate concern.
He rushed over to her. "Did he touch you? Did he hurt you?"
Natalie looked at him—not with fear, but with breathtaking realization. He hadn't fought to protect his territory; he had fought because someone had threatened her.
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"I'm okay, Damian," she whispered softly, using his first name for the very first time. "I'm okay."
Damian closed his eyes, exhaling a long, shuddering breath, and pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest as if the entire world might collapse if he let go.
