Chapter 6 - The Golden Cage
The Maybach turned off the highway and pulled into a secure underground parking garage beneath a monolithic glass-and-steel skyscraper overlooking the Chicago River—Vance Global Headquarters.
Private elevators took them straight to the penthouse level without stopping.
The top floor was an empire of smoked glass, white marble, and minimalist art. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a panoramic, gray-scale view of the freezing city below. But what caught Clarissa’s attention wasn't the view; it was the massive mahogany desk sitting in the center of the room, currently covered in thick corporate dossiers, bank audits, and forensic accounting statements.
“Recognize the formatting?” Julian asked, walking over to the desk and picking up a top sheet.
Clarissa stepped closer, her professional instincts overriding her caution. She scanned the lines of data. “This is forensic ledger tracking. Swiss bank accounts routed through Cayman shell companies. Where did you get this?”
“My people pulled it yesterday evening, right after you walked out of The Violet Tower,” Julian said smoothly. “The Cole family is laundering three million dollars in unpaid municipal tariffs through a dummy corporation registered in Delaware. But we couldn't pierce the corporate veil without an insider forensic accountant who knows how to read between the lines of their primary operating expenses.”
He turned his dark eyes back to her.
“They thought you were just the safe, quiet, overweight friend they could bully for sport,” Julian said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, hypnotic register. “I want you to audit them into oblivion, Clarissa. I want you to take apart their family business, piece by piece, until they are begging on the streets of the Loop. And when you’re done... I’ll hand you the legal title to their primary Chicago warehouse.”
Clarissa stood frozen in the center of the penthouse.
Her heart raced. A cold, exhilarating thrill surged through her blood. For years, women like Samantha had looked down on her, treating her like furniture, using her competence while mocking her body.
And now, the most feared man in Chicago was placing the executioner’s sword directly into her hands.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why me? You have an entire army of corporate lawyers and forensic auditors downstairs.”
May you like
Julian closed the distance between them, his tall, powerful frame towering over her. He reached out, his large hands resting firmly on her hips, pulling her against him until she could feel the hard, unyielding heat of his chest.
“Because my lawyers have teeth,” Julian murmured, his breath warm against her ear. “But you, Clarissa... you have a grudge. And an enemies list tastes much better when it’s served by someone who knows how to balance the books.”
