Chapter 3 - The Broken Vow
His strong fingers closed gently, almost protectively, around mine.
As Leandro led me toward the center of the glittering ballroom, the string quartet immediately transitioned into a slow, elegant waltz. The cinematic tension in the room was absolutely paralyzing. Two hundred wealthy guests were openly staring at us, completely forgetting about their champagne.
Leandro pulled me close, resting his hand perfectly on the small of my back. He leaned down, his face hovering just inches from my ear.
"Clare," Leandro whispered softly, "there's something you should know before we step onto that dance floor."
My breath hitched. "What?"
His expression grew completely serious. The cold, terrifying mafia boss vanished for a fraction of a second, revealing the deeply broken man underneath.
"I haven't asked a woman to dance in four years," Leandro confessed quietly.
I looked up at him, truly seeing him for the first time. The scars didn't make him a monster. They made him a survivor.
They weren't staring at us because of my cheap department store dress anymore. They were staring because the most feared, untouchable man in Minneapolis had just broken his own four-year vow of isolation, just to rescue me from a cruel joke.
"Why did you do it?" I asked softly as we began to sway to the music.
"Because earlier tonight, when Wesley was bragging about his imported Aston Martin for twelve agonizing minutes, you leaned over and told me we both needed to be rescued," Leandro smiled gently. "You didn't look at my scars. You just talked to me."
May you like
For the next three minutes, the rest of the world completely disappeared. We danced in the center of the ballroom, completely ignoring the furious, jealous glares burning into my back from Blair Kensington.
👉 I thought the night had finally turned into a fairy tale, but a violent confrontation in the hallway was about to destroy everything.
