Chapter 3 - THE PINK RABBIT
Richard Peterson didn’t look like an abuser.
He looked like a successful financial advisor. He looked like a man who coached little league and paid his taxes. That was his greatest weapon.
Right now, standing in the aisle of the first-class cabin, he looked like a concerned husband.
“Clare,” Richard said, his voice dripping with forced relief that made her skin crawl. “Thank God. I’ve been out of my mind with worry.”
Clare froze, clutching the sleeping Leo tightly to her chest. She couldn't speak. Her throat felt as though it had been packed with sand.
Richard took a step forward, ignoring Dante entirely. He held up the stuffed pink rabbit.
“You dropped Bunny when you rushed past my seat earlier,” Richard continued smoothly. “I was going to bring it to you, but then I saw this giant dragging our daughter out of her seat.”
Richard pointed behind him. Marco was standing in the aisle, holding a groggy, confused three-year-old Maya in his arms.
“Let her go,” Richard commanded Marco, dropping the fake concern for a flash of real anger. “That is my daughter. My wife is clearly having a mental breakdown. She kidnapped our child across state lines.”
Marco didn't flinch. He looked at Dante.
Dante didn’t move. He stood between Clare and Richard, an immovable wall of bespoke Italian wool and suppressed violence.
“You’re lost, friend,” Dante said quietly. His voice didn't carry past the immediate suite, but the authority in it was absolute. “Economy is back through the curtain.”
Richard finally looked at Dante. He puffed up his chest, trying to match the physical dominance of the mafia boss. It was a laughable attempt.
“I don't know who you are,” Richard sneered, “but you are harboring a fugitive. I’ve already contacted the Italian authorities. When this plane touches down, they are boarding to take her into custody. So tell your goon to give me my daughter.”
“Mommy?” Maya whimpered from Marco’s arms, rubbing her eyes.
Clare’s maternal instinct shattered her paralysis.
“Maya, sweetie, it’s okay,” Clare called out, her voice shaking. She looked at Dante, sheer terror in her eyes. “Please.”
Dante didn't look at her. He kept his eyes locked on Richard.
“Your wife is currently employed by me,” Dante said smoothly. “She is acting as the primary caregiver for my son.”
Richard laughed, a harsh, ugly sound. “Employed? She’s a runaway housewife with a history of postpartum depression. She’s unstable. Look at her! She’s breastfeeding a stranger’s baby on a commercial flight!”
Richard took another step forward, reaching for the pink rabbit to toss it onto Clare’s lap.
Dante’s hand shot out with terrifying speed.
He didn't hit Richard. He simply grabbed Richard’s wrist. The crack of bone adjusting under immense pressure was audible over the hum of the jet engines.
Richard gasped, dropping the stuffed rabbit on the carpet. His knees buckled slightly as Dante applied agonizing, precise pressure to his wrist.
“Listen to me very carefully,” Dante whispered, leaning in so close Richard could feel his breath. “This is a commercial flight. If I break your arm right now, it causes a scene. It delays my son’s schedule. But the second those wheels touch the tarmac in Rome, you are no longer a passenger. You are a problem. And I excel at solving problems.”
Dante released Richard’s wrist with a sharp shove.
Richard stumbled backward, clutching his arm, his face pale with shock and pain. The facade of the concerned husband was completely shattered, revealing the cowardly bully underneath.
“You… you can't do this,” Richard stammered, backing toward the curtain. “I’m her legal husband. The law is on my side.”
“The law?” Dante smiled. It was a smile that promised absolute ruin. “You think the law matters where you’re going?”
Dante turned to Marco. “Put the girl in the seat next to her mother.”
Marco gently set Maya down next to Clare. Maya instantly curled into Clare’s side, burying her face in Clare’s sweater, completely ignoring Richard.
Richard stood in the aisle for one more second, his chest heaving. He looked at Clare, a silent promise of violence in his eyes, before turning and retreating behind the curtain.
Clare let out a ragged sob, pulling Maya close with her free arm, while carefully keeping Leo secure against her chest.
“He’s going to the police,” Clare wept quietly. “He has the paperwork, Dante. He filed for emergency custody the second he realized I was gone. They will be waiting at the gate.”
“Let them wait,” Dante said, sitting back down across from her. He picked up the stuffed pink rabbit from the floor and placed it gently on the table.
“You don't understand,” Clare panicked, her voice rising. “He’s a financial advisor! He manages money for judges! He knows how to manipulate the system!”
“Clare,” Dante interrupted softly. “Look at me.”
Clare forced herself to meet his steel-gray eyes.
“Richard manages money for judges in Ohio,” Dante said, his voice dripping with dark amusement. “I own the judges in Rome. He brought a knife to a gunfight. And he doesn't even know what continent he’s on.”
Dante reached into his jacket again. He pulled out a sleek, black satellite phone. He didn't dial a number; he simply pressed a single button on the side.
“Vincenzo,” Dante said into the phone in rapid, flawless Italian. “We have an issue at customs. A man named Richard Peterson. Seat 4A. When he disembarks, he is not to reach standard immigration. Detain him. Quietly. And bring me the folder.”
Dante hung up the phone and slipped it back into his pocket.
Clare stared at him, her heart pounding. “What folder?”
Dante looked at her, his expression unreadable.
“Richard didn't just chase you to Rome to get his daughter back, Clare,” Dante said, dropping a truth that made the cabin feel freezing cold. “A man like Richard doesn't care about family. He cares about control. And he cares about what you took from him.”
Clare frowned, confused. “I didn't take anything but Maya.”
“Didn't you?” Dante asked.
May you like
He leaned forward, tapping the pink stuffed rabbit sitting on the table.
“My men ran the security scan from your carry-on luggage,” Dante said quietly. “Why is there a high-capacity encrypted flash drive sewn inside your daughter’s toy?”
