Chapter 5 - The Basement Reckoning
The ballroom emptied with breathtaking speed as Rafe's security team directed the wealthy patrons toward the valet line.
Mrs. Ashford remained near the entrance, flanked by two of Rafe's men, looking at me with wide, bewildered eyes.
"Iris, my dear," Mrs. Ashford whispered as I approached. "Is that... is that Rafael Rossi?"
"Apparently so, Mrs. Ashford," I replied, my voice shaking as I unclasped the heavy diamond necklace from my throat.
I placed the platinum piece into its velvet jeweler's case, snapping the brass latch shut.
"Your necklace is completely undamaged. Every stone is secure."
Mrs. Ashford took the case, her hands trembling as she looked past me toward Rafe, who was giving quiet orders to his lieutenant, Marco.
"Iris," the elderly woman murmured, pressing my hands between hers. "A man like Rafael Rossi does not play bodyguard for four hundred dollars."
"Be very careful, child. Men who rule shadows do not let go of what they claim."
Before I could answer, Rafe walked over, his charcoal jacket neatly buttoned once more.
"Mrs. Ashford," Rafe said with flawless, aristocratic courtesy.
"My personal armored transport will escort your car back to your estate in Greenwich to ensure your family's safety."
"Thank you, Don Rossi," Mrs. Ashford said, offering a stiff, respectful nod before hurrying toward the exit.
Once the lobby doors clicked shut, the silence of the marble hall felt vast and suffocating.
"Come with me, Iris," Rafe said gently, offering his arm.
I crossed my arms over my chest, refusing to take it.
"I'm not going to your compound, Mr. Rossi. I am taking a yellow cab back to Queens."
A faint, amused smirk touched his lips, though his eyes remained warm and patient.
"Preston’s associates had two spotters stationed on the street corner outside," Rafe explained calmly.
"Until my men verify the perimeter of your apartment building, you are not safe in Queens."
"Besides, there is someone downstairs who owes you an apology."
He didn't wait for my agreement; he placed a gentle, firm hand against the small of my back, guiding me toward the private service elevator.
His touch was warm, sending a dizzying spark through the silk of my dress that made my knees feel traitorously weak.
We descended to the subterranean storage vaults beneath the gallery.
In the center of the concrete room, tied securely to a heavy wooden chair under a single hanging bulb, was Preston Vance.
Standing beside him was Marcus Cole, the jewel thief, his nose swollen and wrapped in bloody gauze.
When Preston saw me enter beside Rafe, he began sobbing uncontrollably.
"Iris! Tell him! Tell Don Rossi you forgive me!" Preston wept, thrashing against his ropes.
"We were together for two years! You know I'm not a violent person!"
I walked up to the chair, looking down at the man who had tried to break my spirit and steal my life's work.
"You ordered three men to attack me in the dark, Preston," I said, my voice steady and cold.
"You didn't care if they broke my neck as long as you got your fifty percent cut."
"You are a coward who hides behind your father’s name."
Rafe stepped up beside me, pulling a thick manila folder from Marco's hands and tossing it into Preston's lap.
"Those are the certified records of your offshore Cayman accounts, Preston," Rafe stated in a clinical tone.
"Documenting twelve million dollars in stolen gallery acquisition funds over the past four years."
"By eight o'clock tomorrow morning, those records will be on the desk of the United States Attorney for the Southern District of New York."
"Your father’s bank has already initiated foreclosure on your Manhattan penthouse."
"You are finished in this city, Preston."
Preston slumped forward against his bindings, weeping into his lap, his world completely destroyed.
Rafe turned toward Marcus Cole, whose bruised eyes were wide with terror.
"And you, Marcus," Rafe said softly.
"You will board a commercial flight back to Marseille at dawn."
"If your face is ever seen in North America again, my men won't bother with zip-ties."
"Yes, Boss. Understood, Boss," the thief choked out, nodding frantically.
Rafe turned back to me, his expression softening instantly into that tender, protective warmth.
May you like
"Let's get you out of here, Iris," he whispered.
"You've had quite an unusual night."
