Chapter 8 - The Clean Slate
Two weeks later, the Boston skyline looked remarkably different.
The arrest of Declan Sheridan and Viktor Kozlov had dominated the front pages of every major newspaper in the country. The O’Malley-Sheridan feud was finally laid to rest not with a massacre in an alleyway, but with federal indictments, seized shell companies, and the complete dismantling of the Russian smuggling corridor.
Cormac Sheridan had walked away completely untouched. Thanks to Quinn’s meticulous paper trail and the preemptive transfer of Pier 4 to the state authority, Cormac was officially hailed as a corporate whistleblower who had helped dismantle a decades-old organized crime ring from within.
The fourteenth floor of the glass tower was undergoing complete renovation. The shattered drywall had been replaced, the carpets stripped and laid anew with warm, polished hardwood, and the bullet holes were nothing more than a memory.
In the corner office, Cormac sat behind a sleek new mahogany desk, reviewing documents. He wore a crisp navy suit, looking rested, sharp, and younger than he had in years. The weight of his father’s sins had finally been lifted from his shoulders.
A light knock sounded at the door.
Cormac looked up, a soft smile immediately warming his features. "Come in."
Quinn stepped inside.
She looked breathtaking. Her ash-blonde hair fell in soft, loose waves around her shoulders instead of being locked away in a severe clip. She wore no glasses; her gray eyes were bright and clear. And for the first time since she had entered his life, she wasn't hiding behind a fortress of heavy fabric. She wore a tailored cream-colored blouse with an open V-neck collar, her posture proud, open, and radiant.
The scars on her shoulder were hidden beneath the fabric, but she no longer moved like a woman trying to conceal her existence. She carried herself like a queen.
In her hands was a leather folder.
"The restructuring paperwork for the maritime trust is complete," Quinn said, setting the folder on his desk. "All offshore holdings have been liquidated into legitimate community development funds for Dorchester and South Boston. The Sheridan name is officially clean."
Cormac didn't look at the paperwork. He looked only at her.
"And your resignation?" Cormac asked softly, noticing a white envelope tucked beneath the folder. "Is that in there too?"
Quinn paused, her fingers resting lightly on the leather edge. "My job was to settle the score, Cormac. The score is settled. Declan is facing life at ADX Florence. Your empire is safe. You don't need a secretary who doubles as an assassin."
Cormac stood up from behind his desk. He walked slowly around the mahogany wood until he stood directly in front of her.
"You're right," Cormac said, his voice dropping into that deep, intimate register that made her pulse quicken. "I don't need a secretary."
Quinn looked down, a flicker of sorrow touching her eyes. "I understand."
Before she could step back, Cormac reached out, his fingers gently catching her chin and lifting her gaze back to his.
"I need a partner," Cormac whispered. "I need someone who isn't afraid of the dark, but knows how to build something in the light. I need the only woman in this city who was brave enough to stand between me and a bullet."
May you like
Quinn’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching in her throat. "Cormac..."
"I don't want you outside my office taking notes, Quinn," Cormac continued, his thumb gently caressing the soft curve of her jawline. "I want you beside me. As the vice president of this company. And as the woman who shares my life."
