Chapter 3 - Wolves in Silk Ties
The transformation of Paige Winslow was not permitted to remain a quiet affair inside the high-altitude bubble of Moretti Logistics. Gabriel operated on a global stage where perception was currency, and corporate strength was judged by who stood beside the king.
By Friday afternoon, two sleek black garment boxes arrived at Paige’s desk from a private atelier on Madison Avenue. Inside lay an emerald-green silk evening gown with an asymmetrical off-the-shoulder neckline and a dangerously high slit along the left leg, paired with emerald drop earrings that shimmered with the brilliance of pure, uncut Colombian stones.
“Tonight is the Metropolitan Maritime Gala at the Plaza,” Gabriel said, stepping out of his office with his tuxedo jacket slung over one broad shoulder. “Every shipping baron, high-ranking council member, and syndicate leader from Boston to Philadelphia will be in that ballroom.”
Paige ran her fingers over the cool, liquid silk of the gown. “And what am I supposed to be tonight, Gabriel? The woman who caught your VP stealing, or the girl you pulled off the fifth floor to parade around?”
Gabriel paused, his gray eyes fixing on her with an intensity that made the breath catch in her throat. “You are whatever keeps them off-balance. The Santoro family will be watching. Anthony Santoro—the old man’s eldest son—is a vulture who feeds on signs of domestic weakness. If he thinks I am distracted by a woman, he will strike recklessly. If he thinks you are my weakness, he will come for you.”
Paige pulled her hand back from the dress. “And that’s supposed to make me want to put this on?”
Gabriel took two deliberate steps toward her, reaching out to gently trace the curve of her jaw with the back of his knuckles. His touch was unexpectedly soft, sending a dizzying jolt of electricity cascading down her spine.
“You wear it because you are no longer prey, Paige,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips before returning to her eyes. “In that room tonight, you walk with the wolf that owns the forest. No one will dare touch you.”
Three hours later, the Grand Ballroom of the Plaza Hotel was a sea of black ties, diamonds, and orchestral strings. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, glittering glow over hundreds of the city's most powerful elite.
When Gabriel entered the double arched doors, the low hum of champagne chatter perceptibly dipped.
He was lethal in black tie—impossibly broad, impeccably groomed, radiating an aura of dangerous sovereignty that parted the crowd like the Red Sea. But what held the room in paralyzed fascination was the woman beside him.
Paige moved with an elegance born of pure adrenaline. The emerald silk hugged every curve of her body, shimmering under the crystal lights like liquid glass. Gabriel’s hand rested possessively against the small of her bare back, his thumb tracing small, deliberate circles that kept her anchored against his side.
“Keep your chin up,” Gabriel whispered near her ear, his breath warm against her bare shoulder. “You’re doing brilliantly.”
“I feel like I’m walking through a minefield,” Paige murmured back, maintaining a poised, enigmatic smile for the cameras flashing at the edge of the velvet ropes.
“You are,” Gabriel replied with cold amusement. “Smile for the photographers. Let them see you laugh.”
Before Paige could answer, a man stepped out from a cluster of high-ranking port commissioners to block their path.
He was in his late thirties, possessing slicked-back dark hair, a pencil-thin mustache, and eyes that held the oily, predatory gleam of a hyena. Anthony Santoro. Beside him stood two hulking men whose tuxedo jackets were cut just loosely enough to conceal tactical holsters.
“Gabriel,” Anthony purred, raising a champagne flute in a mockery of a toast. “The rumors were true. You actually showed up. And here I thought you’d be spending your evening at the Brooklyn docks dealing with... personnel turnover.”
The air between the two men turned instantly freezing. Paige felt the muscle beneath Gabriel’s tuxedo jacket tighten into corded steel, but his expression remained as placid as a frozen lake.
“Dominic Rossi had an unfortunate clerical oversight, Anthony,” Gabriel said smoothly. “He chose to resign and pursue other opportunities. Six feet under the ground, if he’s lucky.”
Anthony’s eyes flickered with annoyance, but he immediately turned his oily gaze upon Paige, his eyes roaming down the neckline of her dress with insolent appraisal.
“And who is this exquisite vision?” Anthony asked, stepping closer and reaching for Paige’s hand. “I didn’t know Moretti Logistics offered such... decorative administrative perks.”
Paige didn’t pull her hand away; she simply didn’t offer it. Instead, she tilted her head, her slate-green eyes locking onto Anthony’s with cool, cutting composure.
“I am Mr. Moretti’s executive liaison, Mr. Santoro,” she said, her voice clear and carrying effortlessly over the low murmur of the nearby guests. “And if my calculations on the Berth 12 manifests are correct, your shell corporation in Jersey City is about to default on a twelve-million-dollar supply contract because your supply line just went dry.”
A collective intake of breath swept through the eavesdropping circle of city officials.
Anthony’s smile vanished completely, replaced by a dark, murderous flush. His hand dropped back to his side. “You’ve got a mouth on you, darling. Let’s see if your boss can keep it shut when the state auditors show up at Terminal 4 on Monday.”
“The state auditors answer to the governor, Anthony,” Gabriel interjected, his tone dropping an octave into chilling finality. “And the governor answers to me. If you ever address Miss Winslow again without my explicit permission, I will personally pull your tongue out through your throat and leave you in your father’s driveway.”
Gabriel didn’t wait for a response. He placed his hand back on Paige’s waist and steered her effortlessly past the furious mobster, gliding toward the VIP terrace as though Anthony Santoro were nothing more than a speck of dust on his lapel.
When they stepped out onto the marble balcony overlooking the quiet expanse of Central Park, the cool night air hit Paige’s burning skin like a splash of cold water. Her knees trembled violently.
“You just humiliated the heir to the Santoro family,” she breathed, leaning against the stone balustrade.
Gabriel leaned beside her, looking out over the city lights. A slow, genuine smile curved his lips—the first true smile she had ever seen on his face. It transformed his harsh features into something strikingly, dangerously handsome.
“You called him a bankrupt thief in front of three city councilmen,” Gabriel said softly, turning his head to look down at her. “I believe that was your doing, Paige.”
“I told the truth,” she whispered, her heart hammering against her ribs as he closed the space between them.
“Truth is a weapon in this town,” Gabriel murmured, reaching out to gently touch the emerald earring dangling against her neck. His fingers brushed the sensitive skin beneath her ear, sending shivers racing through her veins. “And you wield it better than most men who carry guns.”
Paige looked up into his slate-gray eyes, suddenly realizing with terrifying clarity that she was no longer afraid of Gabriel Moretti.
May you like
She was falling for him.
***
