Chapter 4 The Public Traitor

"A file? What are you talking about, Julian? What file could be worth your life?"

Sienna knelt in the glass shards of their living room, ignoring the sting in her knees. She grabbed Julian by his shoulders, shaking him. He looked like a shell of the brother she used to idolize.

The blood from his nose had stained his white designer shirt, a pathetic contrast to the arrogance he usually wore like armor.

"The Moretti acquisition papers," Julian wheezed, his eyes darting to the hallway as if the ghost was still there. "It's not just business, Sienna. It's evidence.

It's the proof that our father didn't just cause that accident. He planned it. And Dante has the original documents.

If that man, the one who just got out gets his hands on them, he's going to use them to bury us all. Not just Dante. Us."

Sienna felt the world tilt. Her father, the man who had tucked her in and called her his princess, was a murderer? She wanted to scream that Julian was lying, but the terror in his voice was too real.

"Who was he, Julian? The man who was here?"

"Silas," Julian whispered. "He was the driver. He took the fall for Dad fifteen years ago. He wants his payout, or he wants blood.

He told me if I didn't get him that file from Dante's penthouse by tonight, he'd send a copy of the secondary ledger to the FBI. We'll lose everything, Sienna. The house, the name, our freedom."

The weight of it crashed down on her. She had to go back to the lion's den, but not just to save Julian from a lawsuit. She had to become a thief.

"I have to go," Sienna said, standing up. Her legs were trembling. "Dante's car is downstairs. He gave me three hours."

"Sienna, wait!" Julian grabbed her hand, his fingers sticky with blood. "He's taking you to the Starlight Gala tonight, isn't he? Every big name in the city will be there. Use that.

Find his keys. Find the safe. If you don't, we're dead."

Sienna pulled her hand away, a flash of pure loathing for her brother crossing her face.

"You're asking me to betray the only man who is actually telling me the truth, even if that truth is ugly. I'm doing this for Dad. Not for you."

She packed her things in a blur. She felt like a ghost walking through her own apartment. By the time she got back down to the black sedan, the driver didn't even look at her. He just held the door open.

When she arrived back at the penthouse, the atmosphere had shifted. Dante wasn't there, but a team of stylists was waiting in the foyer.

They moved like silent machines, whisking her away to a dressing room she hadn't Forseen before.

two hours, they poked and prodded. They painted her face into a mask of cold, high-society perfection.

They dressed her in a gown of midnight blue silk that clung to every curve, with a slit that went all the way up her thigh.

It was a dress meant to be noticed. It was a dress meant to say: I belong to the man on whose arm I'm standing.

Dante entered the room just as the stylists were finishing. He was in a black tuxedo that made him look like a lethal weapon.

He stood in the doorway, his eyes traveling slowly from her heels to her throat, where a diamond necklace sparked like ice.

"Leave us," he commanded.

The stylists vanished. Dante walked toward her, the heavy click of his dress shoes the only sound. He stopped behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror.

He placed his hands on her bare shoulders. His skin was hot against her cold flesh.

"You look like a Blackwood tonight," he murmured. "High. Mighty. Untouchable."

"Is that why you're taking me?" she asked, her voice steady despite the chaos in her mind. "To show the world you've finally tamed the princess?"

"I'm taking you because I want everyone to see what I've won," he said. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear.

"And because I want to see how you handle the whispers. Tonight, they won't see a business rival. They'll see my mistress."

Mistress. The word stung, but Sienna didn't flinch. She had a job to do.

The gala was a blur of flashing lights and expensive champagne. The moment they stepped out of the limousine, the cameras went wild. Sienna kept her head high, her hand resting on Dante's forearm.

She could feel the stares of the women and the judgmental glares of the men who used to call her father a friend.

They walked into the ballroom, and the music seemed to dip for a second. The scandal was already spreading.

"Stay close," Dante whispered, his grip on her waist tightening. "And don't speak to anyone unless I'm standing there."

For an hour, she played the part. She smiled when she had to and stood silently while Dante spoke to investors. But her eyes were constantly searching.

She looked for a key, a thumbprint scanner, anything that might lead her to the file Julian described.

Then, she saw him.

Across the room, standing near the balcony, was a man with a jagged scar running down his neck. He wasn't wearing a tuxedo.

He was in a cheap suit that didn't fit, and he was staring straight at her.

Silas.

Her heart skipped a beat. He raised a glass to her, a mocking salute.

"I need to go to the powder room," Sienna whispered to Dante.

Dante followed her gaze. His eyes narrowed as he spotted Silas. The tension in his body became a living thing.

"Five minutes, Sienna. If you aren't back, I'm coming in to get you."

She didn't wait. She wove through the crowd, her heart hammering against her ribs. She didn't go to the powder room.

She doubled back through a service hallway, hoping to find a quiet place to breathe, to think.

But she wasn't alone.

A hand gripped her arm and pulled her into a darkened alcove behind a velvet curtain. She started to scream, but a rough palm slammed over her mouth.

"Easy, princess," Silas hissed. His breath smelled like stale tobacco. "I told your brother the deal. Do you have it?"

Sienna struggled, her muffled cries dying against his hand.

"Dante has it on him," Silas whispered, his face inches from hers. "He keeps a small drive in his inner jacket pocket.

Get it tonight. When he's distracted. When he's... busy with you. If I don't have it by 2 AM, I go to the feds."

He released her, disappearing back into the shadows of the service hallway before she could even catch her breath.

Sienna stood there, shaking. She had to steal from Dante while he was touching her. The thought made her feel physically ill.

She smoothed her dress and walked back into the ballroom. Dante was waiting by the door, his face a mask of fury. He grabbed her arm, his fingers digging into her skin.

"What did he say to you?" Dante demanded.

"Nothing. He just... he just looked at me," she lied.

"Don't lie to me, Sienna. I saw you disappear." He pulled her toward a private exit. "We're leaving. Now."

The ride back to the penthouse was silent and suffocating. Dante was radiating a dark, violent energy.

The moment the elevator doors opened into his home, he threw his jacket onto the sofa and turned on her.

"You think you can play both sides?" he roared. "You think I don't know that Silas went to see Julian today? I have eyes everywhere, Sienna. Did he tell you to kill me? Or just rob me?"

"He told me the truth!" she shouted back, her voice cracking. "He told me my father killed your father! Why didn't you just tell me? Why play these games?"

Dante stepped into her space, his chest heaving. "Because I wanted you to find out when it was too late to turn back! I wanted you to realize that your whole life is built on a lie!"

He grabbed her, pulling her flush against him. The anger between them was so thick it felt like electricity.

"Night Two hasn't even started," he rasped, his eyes searching hers. "And you're already trying to betray me. Do you know what I do to traitors, Sienna?"

"I don't care," she whispered, though her heart was racing for a different reason. The drive was in his jacket. On the sofa. Just ten feet away.

"You will care," he promised.

He picked her up, ignoring her half-hearted protests, and carried her toward the bedroom.

He slammed the door shut with his foot and pressed her against it. His hands were everywhere, frantic and possessive.

"I should throw you out," he muttered against her lips. "I should let Silas have you. But I can't. I can't let anyone else touch what's mine."

He began to kiss her, a punishing, desperate thing that left her breathless. Sienna felt the conflict tearing her apart. She needed to get to that jacket.

She needed to save her family. But as Dante's hands found the zipper of her dress, her body betrayed her again. The heat he sparked in her was more addictive than any drug.

She reached out, her fingers fumbling with his shirt, trying to get him to lose his focus.

"Dante," she moaned, her head falling back.

He lifted her, her legs locking around his waist. He walked them toward the bed, but as he passed the sofa, Sienna reached out a hand, her fingers brushing the fabric of his discarded tuxedo jacket.

Just an inch. She just needed an inch.

Her fingertips touched the cold metal of a USB drive in the pocket.

"What are you doing?" Dante whispered, his voice suddenly sharp.

He stopped moving. He looked from her face to her arm, which was stretched out behind him.

Before she could pull back, he dropped her onto the sofa. He reached into his own pocket and pulled out the drive she had been reaching for.

He held it up between them, a dark, mocking glint in his eyes.

"Looking for this?"

Sienna froze. "I... I can explain."

"There's nothing to explain." Dante snapped the drive in half with one hand, the plastic crunching in the quiet room.

"That was a decoy, Sienna. I knew Silas would talk to you. I wanted to see if you'd choose me, or the man who helped murder my father."

He stood over her, his silhouette blocking out the light. He looked like the monster she had always feared, but there was a deep, raw hurt in his eyes that he couldn't hide.

"You failed the test," he said, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "And now, Night Two is going to be very, very different."

He reached for a silk tie on the side table, his eyes never leaving hers.

"Tonight, we don't play. Tonight, you learn what happens when you try to steal from the devil."

The phone on the table rang. It was her father's private line. The one he only used for emergencies.

Dante looked at the phone, then at Sienna.

"Pick it up," he commanded. "Let's see what else your family has to lose tonight."