Chapter 2 - The Ghost of Milan
The name echoed off the high, painted ceilings of the opera house.
Elenora.
It was a name Elena had legally buried in a European courthouse almost a decade ago.
Dante turned his head slowly to look at her.
"Who is Elenora?" Dante asked, his dark eyes analyzing every inch of her pale face.
Elena gripped the velvet railing so tightly her knuckles turned completely white.
"It is a mistake," she lied, her voice shaking violently.
"Please, we need to leave right now."
Adrian Bell did not break his intense eye contact with her.
"The world mourned the greatest musical prodigy of our generation, and here you are fetching coffee," the old man said with heavy disgust.
The wealthy crowd erupted into frantic, hushed whispers.
People began pointing their phones up at the VIP box.
"Dante, I am begging you," Elena pleaded, completely ignoring the crowd.
Dante did not ask another question.
He immediately signaled his private security detail stationed by the exits.
"Clear a path to the south stairwell," Dante barked into his earpiece.
He grabbed Elena’s hand and pulled her firmly away from the railing.
They rushed out of the private box and into the carpeted hallway.
But the hallway was no longer empty.
A tall man in a tailored silver suit was blocking their only exit.
He was flanked by four heavily armed men with visible shoulder holsters.
Dante instantly pushed Elena behind his broad back.
"Victor Rossi," Dante said, his voice dropping to a lethal whisper.
"You have absolutely no business being in my territory."
Victor smiled, revealing a row of unnaturally white teeth.
"I didn't come for your territory, Valente," Victor chuckled smoothly.
May you like
The rival boss pointed a thick, ringed finger directly at Elena.
"I came for the girl who stole thirty million dollars from my cartel before she magically disappeared."
