Chapter 2 - The Scent of Danger
Caitlyn scrambled backward so violently she nearly tangled herself in the cashmere blanket. Her breath caught in her throat, her face draining of what little color it had left.
""Mr. Hamilton!"" she gasped, pressing her back against the far corner of the leather sofa. Panic surged through her veins, scorching away every lingering trace of sleep. ""I—I am so sorry. I didn't mean to—I don't know what happened, I swear to God I didn't mean to fall asleep—""
Her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. She waited for the fury. She waited for him to call Luigi, to terminate her contract, to strip her security clearance and cast her out onto the tarmac. If she lost this job, Tommy’s specialized nursing facility in Pennsylvania would discharge him within forty-eight hours. The realization choked her with cold terror.
Deari didn't raise his voice. He didn't even frown. He simply picked up his glass of scotch, took a measured sip, and set it down.
""You slept for two hours, Caitlyn,"" he said smoothly, smoothing the front of his jacket where her cheek had left a faint wrinkle. ""You needed it. Gather your things. The car is waiting.""
Caitlyn sat frozen, her fingers digging into the wool blanket. ""You're... you're not firing me?""
Deari leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his dark eyes locking onto hers with an intensity that made the air feel thin. ""If I fired everyone who showed human weakness, I would be running this city alone. However, if you ever let yourself reach forty-six hours without sleep again, I will dock your pay and order a physician to sedate you. Do you understand me?""
""Yes, sir,"" she whispered, her hands trembling as she folded the blanket with robotic speed.
""Good. Grab your tablet. The transfer manifests for the harbor need to be filed with our shell attorneys before dawn.""
Twenty minutes later, the Gulfstream touched down on the private runway at Teterboro Airport. A convoy of three armored black Cadillac Escalades was idling near the hangar, exhaust pluming into the chilly New York rain. Luigi and the security detail moved fast, sweeping the perimeter with practiced paranoia. As Caitlyn stepped down the airstair into the biting wind, Luigi fell into step beside her, leaning down with a harsh scowl.
""You're playing with fire, Elmore,"" Luigi muttered under his breath, his eyes darting toward the lead SUV. ""I don't know what kind of spell you think you're working, but the boss isn't a soft touch. You pull another stunt like that, falling all over him, and I'll make sure you disappear back to whatever small town you crawled out of.""
""It was an accident, Mr. Cavalier,"" Caitlyn replied quietly, clutching her heavy briefcase against her ribs. ""I was exhausted.""
""Save it,"" Luigi spat. ""Around here, accidents get people put in shallow graves.""
""Luigi.""
Deari's voice cut through the drizzle like a gunshot. He stood by the open door of the center vehicle, his overcoat collar turned up against the damp cold. He hadn't heard the words, but he had seen the posture.
""Get in the lead car,"" Deari commanded his enforcer. ""Caitlyn rides with me.""
Luigi's jaw clenched visibly, but he offered no argument. He spat onto the tarmac, turned on his heel, and climbed into the front SUV. Caitlyn hesitated by the running board of Deari's car, the rain plastering loose strands of brown hair across her forehead.
""Get in before you catch pneumonia,"" Deari ordered, holding the door open for her himself—a gesture no boss in the syndicate had ever extended to an employee.
Inside the insulated cabin of the Escalade, the city lights blurred through the rain-streaked glass. Caitlyn kept her eyes glued to her laptop, typing up the final legal clauses for the harbor buyout while Deari made quiet, coded phone calls in the seat across from her. Yet every time the vehicle banked around a curve, her skin prickled with hyper-awareness. She could still feel the phantom heat of his chest against her temple, the steady, rhythmic beat of a killer's heart that had somehow given her the deepest rest she had known in three years.
As the convoy crossed the bridge into Manhattan, Deari hung up his encrypted phone and looked over at her illuminated screen.
""Tomorrow night is the St. Regis charity gala,"" he said abruptly.
Caitlyn nodded without looking up. ""Yes, sir. I have already confirmed your RSVP and arranged for your security detail to coordinate with the hotel management.""
""Cancel your evening plans,"" Deari added coolly. ""You are attending with me.""
Caitlyn’s fingers froze over the keyboard. She looked up, her wide hazel eyes meeting his impassive gaze. ""Sir? I’m your secretary. Mr. Cavalier usually accompanies you to public functions.""
""Mr. Cavalier looks like an enforcer because he is one,"" Deari replied, leaning back against the leather headrest. ""The Moretti family will be there. The district attorney will be there. I need someone at my side who projects corporate legitimacy, sharp intelligence, and absolute composure. You fit the bill. A gown will be delivered to your apartment by noon.""
May you like
""Mr. Hamilton, I don't know how to navigate that kind of world—""
""You navigated forty-six hours of cutthroat extortion in Chicago without flinching, Miss Elmore,"" Deari said, his voice dropping to a gravelly murmur that sent a shiver straight down her spine. ""A room full of overdressed hypocrites drinking champagne will be child's play for you. Be ready by seven.""
