Chapter 5

After hanging up, Halse finally found his courage. "You're finished! Newark's two great families won't let this go!"

Marco carried Gianna into the suite and lowered her directly into the ice bath he'd prepared.

"Get me a doctor." He pinned down her struggling form and made the call.

The ice water gave Gianna one minute of relief. Then the heat surged back, worse than before.

High-grade aphrodisiac.

Marco had seen enough to recognize it instantly. The same kind they'd used on him years ago. Like ants burrowing into bone marrow—painful but pleasurable, building layer by layer until bone, flesh, and nerves all screamed for release. Physical surrender was the only cure.

That night had been madness for exactly this reason.

He looked down. The woman had twisted herself into knots, grinding against the porcelain, her expression desperate.

Marco held her still and leaned close to her ear. "Gianna. Remember this. My name is Marco. You helped me that night. Tonight, you're begging me."

He caught her earlobe between his teeth, tongue tracing its curve.

Gianna shuddered. Deep satisfaction bloomed in her core—then vanished, replaced by emptiness ten times worse.

More... she needed more...

"Don!" Urgent knocking erupted outside. "The Davis family and the Dyson family are here!"

Marco released her wet earlobe, irritation flashing across his face.

"Let them wait."

The footsteps outside hesitated, then retreated.

Gianna, briefly soothed, began writhing again—until an iron palm pressed her down. Her face crumpled with frustration. "I want... please..."

Marco released his grip and lifted her from the bath. Three strides brought him to the bed. He laid her down and covered her body with his own.

"What do you want?"

His voice was low and dangerous.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, long legs circling his waist. That exquisite face radiated pure need.

Marco glanced toward the door. A cold smile curved his mouth.

Looks like we won't need that doctor after all.

In the Ballroom

David's hands and feet had been shattered. When Harry Davis finally arrived, he saw his beloved son crushed beneath a boot heel.

Rage turned his vision red.

"Let go of my son!"

He looked at the men in black suits like they were already corpses.

Hearing David was in danger, Harry had brought every guard the family owned—over thirty men, all armed.

Seeing his father, David's sweat-soaked face showed the first hint of relief.

But the agony of broken limbs and the terror of near-death still had him trembling uncontrollably.

That feeling of death's breath on his neck—even Newark's most spoiled playboy couldn't handle it. His mind had cracked.

Halse saw reinforcements and rushed forward, tears streaming. "Uncle Harry! Thank God you're here!"

"You don't know how arrogant they were!" He piled on lies. "They attacked David the moment they arrived! We were just hosting a party—who could have expected this? We didn't even bring security!"

"These hotel guards were useless. That's why they got so bold!"

"Uncle Harry, you have to teach them a lesson! Make them pay for what they did to David!"

Halse was terrified the Davis family would blame him for David's injuries.

He knew the Davis family had backing from someone even Newark's elite feared.

And that mysterious man seemed to have come for Gianna...

Probably one of Gianna's lovers!

That whore's specialty was seducing men. Some fool must have heard about her arranged marriage and stormed in without thinking, beating David half to death!

He could afford recklessness—but the Dyson family lived in Newark. We can't run.

Halse pieced it together instantly and threw Marco under the bus. As for himself? Completely innocent.

Harry just snorted. He didn't bother picking apart the holes in Halse's story.

His eyes fixed on the men in black with undisguised malice.

"Since you don't know what's good for you, don't blame me for being uncivilized."

"Move!"

Instantly, Harry's men drew their guns, aiming at the black suits.

Harry expected a show of force would make them release David.

Instead, the black suits showed no interest in negotiation. They drew their own weapons.

Faster. More professional. Drop, find cover, aim.

Movements synchronized like they'd drilled it a thousand times.

They used the garden wall and ballroom pillars for cover. As for David—one of them hoisted him up like a human shield.

Staring down multiple gun barrels, already a sitting duck, David pissed himself.

He looked desperately at his father. "Father! Father! Save me! I'll die! I'll die!"

Tears and snot covered his face.

Harry's fury peaked at the sight. "You're really determined to make enemies of the Davis family?"

"This is Newark! Davis and Dyson territory!"

"Cross us, and you think you'll walk away?"

Harry name-dropped both families while watching the black suits for any reaction—any crack in those cold expressions.

He was destined for disappointment.

These men might as well have been robots. Their faces showed nothing.

Harry raised his hand. His guards moved their fingers to the triggers.

David saw the movement and blacked out.

Father's here and I'm still going to die...

It exceeded his mental capacity. Passing out took everything he had left.

Harry's fists clenched. His mouth opened and closed several times, but the order wouldn't come.

Halse watched, terrified Harry would actually shoot and kill David, then blame him and the Dyson family in his grief.

Seeing Harry's hesitation, he stepped forward and whispered, "Uncle Harry! Look at their training. They must have serious backing."

"Why not invoke that man's name?"

"They might not respect small-time Newark families like us, but they wouldn't dare cross him!"

Harry studied the black suits, remembering their coordinated movements. It made sense.

He straightened his jacket and stepped forward to negotiate:

"Gentlemen!"

"If my son offended you, you've had your revenge. Surely your anger is satisfied."

"The Davis family is just a small Newark operation, but our patron is no joke!"

"You can verify what I'm saying!"

"Release my son, and I guarantee—guarantee—we'll let this go. No retaliation."

Harry expected the black suits to show respect and release David.

After all, he'd offered amnesty.

Instead—

Their expressions didn't flicker.

Now Harry was truly furious. He was even considering writing off this son.

The Davis family doesn't get pushed around!

If I don't get satisfaction tonight, I'm finished in Newark!

Just then, a voice rang out—male, satisfied, almost lazy:

"Oh? How exactly will you be rude to us?"